Left 4 Dead: Walking Away
by ZZ Eclipse
Summary: In the aftermath of tragedy, Zoey and Clementine find a new reason to continue fighting for survival: Each other. WARNING: CONTAINS L4D, L4D2 AND THE WALKING DEAD GAME SPOILERS! READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING, ALL L4D AND WALKING DEAD RELATED MATERIAL BELONGS TO THEIR OWNERS.
1. Chapter 1: The Sacrifice

The night was as dead as the bodies that roamed aimlessly in its silent darkness.

The silence was broken by a pounding in the distance, amidst the shadows. The pounding came with a loud bang. Flashes of light lit up the midnight sky as desperate shouts filled the air. The bridge to the north of the city groaned in a loud, rusty protest, but began to slowly rise, and with it, too, the dead.

The loud cracks and muzzle flashes in the distance grew closer and closer, agitating the tormented Infected that littered the streets and alleyways of Savannah, Georgia. They furiously charged towards the flashes and loud noises, only to be mowed down by gunfire.

"How's that generator coming?" Bill shouted over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the incoming wave of Infected.

"Working on it!" Louis yelled back over the deafening gunfire coming from Bill's Assault Rifle. His long, slender fingers moved quickly over the cold metal buttons on the side of the generator.

"Work faster!" Zoey called out as she plunged her hand into the pile of ammunition they had scavenged from the dead soldiers around them. She quickly filled a clip and inserted it into her hunting rifle and brought it up to scope and resumed picking out the Special Infected in the distance.

This was the third generator they'd had to activate, and yet the bridge had only budged a few feet before halting. Not only had this second generator failed to lower the bridge, it had also managed to produce a very loud screeching noise that rang like a dinner bell to all infected nearby.

"Got it!" came Louis' triumphant voice from behind.

Relief flushed over Zoey as the bridge began to lower. Simultaneously, the oncoming horde ceased as well.

"The bridge is almost down, let's move!" Bill yelled out.

Zoey slugged her rifle over her shoulder and jumped off the ledge, landing in a full run towards the lowering bridge. Francis emerged from the opposite house, providing cover fire with his shotgun as he ran along behind them.

The bridge was a few feet down when the hydraulics gave out.

To her horror, the bridge's descent lost more and more friction until it crashed loudly against the asphalt. The rumbling came seconds after the impact, followed closely by howls and growls in the distance.

Zoey lifted up her hunting rifle and looked through the scope.

A horde of at least two hundred infected charged at them, followed closely by three rampaging Tanks.

"Come on!" She hurried and ran up the ramp and onto the bridge, shooting down three infected men who were trapped under a car.

"Gotta raise it, gotta raise it," she heard Louis saying frantically as he leaped onto a ladder beside her. "Punch it!" Bill called when everybody was onboard. Louis twisted a lever on the controls above and the bridge shuddered twice before beginning its slow rise.

Along with Francis, the three opened fire on the horde, mowing them down like blades on grass.

"Looks like we're going to make it after all," Bill said to Zoey without turning. Zoey began to respond when the bridge suddenly stopped.

"What the hell?" Francis growled in confusion.

"The generator's out!" Louis called from above. "Someone needs to restart it!"

"Look out!" Bill yelped and opened fire on the incoming horde.

Francis' furious swearing was drowned out by the sounds of his rifle.

Louis took command of a mounted machine gun that had been installed atop the bridge.

Zoey was paralyzed with fear.

"Oh, God," She whispered knowingly. "This is it."

Out of ammo, out of room and out of time, they would die here on this old, broken bridge.

"I'm out!" Francis roared, tossing his shotgun to the side and pulling out a colt magnum.

Zoey saw Bill reach back for another clip, but was out, too.

She dropped her hunting rifle. If this is how it would end, she would go down fighting, just like she had since the beginning of this endless nightmare.

She pulled out her double pistols.

_Daddy,_ she prayed with silent tears. _This one's for you._

With a guttural scream, she opened fire, blasting off one infected head after another.

She turned to check for infected and saw Bill crouched down beside the car.

The loud roar of three Tanks brought back her attention.

With six rounds in her pistols, Zoey knew that this was it. She aimed her guns at the nearest tank and fired away.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Bill getting up with a Molotov in hand.

He looked up at her sadly.

"Take care of yourselves," he said, heartbreaking sadness in his voice.

His eyes narrowed as he turned to the incoming Tanks.

"All right, you sons of bitches! Come and get me!" He lit the Molotov with his cigarette and ran straight into the horde.

"Bill!" Zoey shrieked and ran after him, but Francis tackled her down. "Bill!"

Bill threw the flaming bottle at the Tanks, who shrieked in pain and anger. He wasted no time and ran for the generator. He punched the button and the bridge jolted upwards before finally completing its ascent into the heavens. Zoey jumped on to the catwalk and ran to where Louis was standing, out of ammo.

She raised her hunting rifle, and through the scope she saw him standing there.

There was a small, sad smile on Bill's teary-eyed face for just a moment, before a giant boulder thrown by a dying Tank crushed him.

Before her very eyes, Bill vanished in the endless sea of infected.

**Left 4 Dead: **

**Walking Away**


	2. Chapter 2: Aftermath

Darkness turned to dawn, and warm rays of light lit the streets littered in bodies. Zoey watched as the Jimmy Gibbs sped off in the distance and disappeared from sight, taking the four survivors they had just helped escape the city with it.

The same creeping sadness she had been feeling since Bill's death seeped into her again, as she turned to look for the guys. Francis stood perched against the railing, looking out for infected like a hunting hawk and Louis was patching himself up with a medkit. A knee injury had forced them to stay longer than expected on the catwalk, but it was apparently good enough to walk on, now.

She stared at the two for a long time. They looked alert, unwilling to give up.

That feeling was gone in her, replaced by a black void of hopelessness.

Three months ago, when the Plague had started, the only thing keeping her sanity intact was the hope of reaching somewhere safe, where they could all restart their lives without having to fear the infection or the infected. That, and the protective shadow of Bill.

But that hope she held on so dearly to was gone.

And so was Bill.

The bridge was down again and lifting it up again was the only way to get the boat out of the harbor. But doing that would create enough noise to bring about a third horde, and Zoey could not bear to think of what would happen if the generators were to stall again. Then one of them would have to sacrifice himself again to restart it.

Zoey waited several seconds for the inevitable question, until Louis turned around and began to ask it.

"This doesn't change anything," she muttered bitterly before he could. "Sure as hell doesn't change my mind."

"You're mourning right now, that's understandable. But we've got to stick together!" he insisted, as he had for the past half hour since she announced her intentions to leave the group.

"Bill gave his life to raise this bridge," Zoey burst out with a sudden flash of anger. "Now it's as if he's died in vain."

Louis refused to meet her tone, and for a long moment, Zoey thought -hoped- that he would drop it.

But of course, he didn't.

"Bill saved us," he finally said as Zoey turned around dismissively and walked over to the stairs of the ledge where they were standing. "That's all that matters now. He died so that we may live."

_No, not _all_ that matters._

"Come on, girl," Louis protested when Zoey continued walking. "You can't give up on yourself now. We're so close to making it out of this mess! We just need to push on a little further."

"I am tired, Louis!" Zoey's shouted as her frustration poured out. She had been holding it in for too long, and now she was on the verge of breaking down. "Every day since we made it to that rooftop in Pennsylvania, I have been holding myself together, holding onto a dream, hoping that the next day would be better, but it hasn't. Every day, this nightmare just keeps getting worse and worse, and I am **_tired_ **of it!"

Louis watched her sadly, and she hated herself for causing him more pain than he needed to endure.

"I'm going alone. My decision is final."

"Zoey," Louis said, softly. "We've got to stick together!"

"I'm sorry, Louis. But things have changed. I have to find my own way out there, now, and following a dream paradise island is not it."

She saw him tense, wanting to protest and have her stay. But realization crept into his eyes. Maybe he realized that this was the only way she was going to make it out of this nightmare. He nodded.

"We had a good run together, girl," he shrugged in defeat, and she felt a swell of emotion with his words. "I'm sure you'll make it out there. I'm sure gonna miss ya!"

Without another word, he turned back to the bridge, eyes glazing.

She wanted to respond, but a sharp pang of guilt ate at her side, so she let him be.

Zoey walked up to Francis, instead. He had been strangely quiet since Bill's death. It affected him more than he liked to show, Zoey realized.

"Kick ass," he told her, gruffly.

"I'll keep that in mind," she smiled at him. "Take care of Sunshine Rays over there."

"If I don't kill him first," he muttered jokingly. "Take this." He reached into a pocket in his vest and pulled out a sleek, stylized knife with a skull grip. Its cold weight felt reassuring in Zoey's hand.

"She's saved my ass a bunch'a times. Stay safe out there, kiddo." He ruffled her hair, but groaned when she forced him into a hug. "I hate sentimental moments," he complained.

She giggled and pulled back after a second, then turned and walked over to the ladder. She turned, catching a final glance of the two men that had kept her safe from harm the last three months and wondering what would happen to them, wanting to give Louis a proper good-bye, but the pang of guilt was still there. Forcing herself to peel her eyes from them, she climbed down the ladder.

Her feet touched the ground, and her mind screamed for her to stop, to go back and stay with her friends, her _brothers_.

But her mind had been set, her decision final.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and walked away.

* * *

She pressed a hand against her raging stomach. It had been days since she'd had a meal, and she was beginning to feel the effects. Her vision was blurry and her hands were shaky. On the bright side, she had not seen a single infected in hours. She had decided to follow back the trail of bodies the other group of survivors had left, taking her deep into the heart of Savannah, through an underground tunnel and out into the streets.

Among the group, there was a boy.

For some reason, she had felt immediately attracted to him. Maybe it was his blatant nervousness, his eyes, or the fact that she had not seen a man her age in almost a year.

_Or children, for that matter!_

She rounded a corner and relief flooded through her like the water she so desperately needed.

There, on the side of a building, was a red and white door with the words "Safe House" spray painted on the side.

Her mind boggled as she rushed in through the door, sliding on her knees towards the cabins that held the supplies. She reached in and pulled a bottle of hot water and gratefully gulped it down.

She was reaching in for a second when she felt a cold barrel press against the back of her head.

"Well, well, well," rang a loud Southern voice behind her. "What do we have here?"

"Didn't ya know?" Sang a second voice. "Pretty girls like you shouldn't be out on their own 'round here."

Zoey cursed herself silently for not checking the inside for infected.

She glanced down at her holstered pistols, but she knew that she would never get to them before having her brains blown out.

Or worse.

She had heard the stories from other survivors they'd met. Bandits roamed most parts of the south, pillaging survivor camps and ravaging the women for themselves. It made Zoey shudder to think what these two had in mind for her.

"How long's it been since we've had a youngin like this one here, Leroy?" the first voice asked maliciously.

"Dunno, five, six months?"

"Yeh, a little too long for my taste, so ya see, we're gonna have to ask you to take off that pretty little sweatshirt of yours," his voice deepened.

_Oh, god. Not this._

"Do it, now!" he suddenly growled.

"Ed, keep it down!" Leroy whispered harshly. "You know they'll hear ya!"

"Then close the damn door, ya idiot!" Ed growled at him.

Zoey watched their shadows on the wall.

_If it's noise they're afraid of…_

As Leroy moved towards the door, Zoey jerked back, suddenly, knocking Ed's rifle to the side.

To their horror, the rifle went off.

The shot rang loud and bounced through the walls, and there was a moment of silence before Zoey heard it.

Ed grabbed her by her ponytail and shoved her angrily against the wall.

Dazed by his strength, she crumbled to the floor as he advanced on her.

That's when she heard it.

It was a deathly choir, a monsoon of dead voices, a cacophony of the damned.

And it was heading in their direction.

Ed turned, his eyes wide in horror as he realized what was happening.'

"Don't panic!" He yelled, but he was too late.

Leroy shrieked as he pulled his own pistol from his pants and began firing at the slowly approaching infected.

"Stop shooting and run!" he yelled.

Zoey took advantage of his distraction and kicked him hard in the shin.

It snapped loudly, and Ed howled in pain as he fell beside her.

"You bitch!" he growled in pain. "You bitch!"

Zoey sprang to her feet just in time to see a dozen infected hands taking hold of Leroy at the door. He tried to close it, but the infected ripped him from the bars and brought him down.

To her horror, they tore into him as his screams became gargled death noises.

_They EAT?!_

The infected she'd faced coming down had seemed to conform with beating their victims to death or cutting them to shreds, but never eating them.

Realizing the danger she was really in, she turned and searched desperately for a way out. She saw a glass windowed store lobby and threw herself in. Ignoring the burning cuts on her hands, she scrambled up and started for the back.

"Don't leave me here!" Ed begged cowardly as the infected turned and began their slow walk towards him.

Zoey ignored him and continued walking away. She made it to the stairs to the roof when she heard a Ed fired a shot at her. She felt a hot pain on her arm, and looked down to see a large gap on her forearm, blood pouring out like water.

Ed screamed in the back as the infected fell on him, and the shooting seized.

Knowing she was running out of time, Zoey ran upstairs.

She burst through the room and locked herself in, having just enough time to catch her breath before hearing the moans of the infected behind the door.

_Nothing stops them!_

Zoey searched frantically around the room, finding nothing useful. She cursed aloud as the door began to break.

She ran for the windows and climbed out. When she reached the roof she gasped in horror.

It was like one of those marches you'd see only on television. Thousands of infected walked the streets, their voices a mixture of hunger, pain and anger.

Peeling her eyes off of them, she turned and ran for the next roof. With a hard thump, she landed and continued her run over to the next one. She slowed when she saw that it was too far for her to jump to. She took a step back, and the roof gave in, sending her toppling down inside.

She landed hard, the breath knocked out of her as she struggled to get up. A sharp pain on her side kept her from doing so, as she felt a fresh stream of blood rushing out of her. She looked down and saw a sharp piece of wood stabbed onto her side.

She rolled over onto her back in agony, her eyes scanning the room.

She was in a chapel apparently. A huge cross stood erect behind her.

The door at the far end broke open as the infected slowly walked in, enraged by the scent of fresh blood. There was nowhere to go, and even if there was, she knew she didn't have the strength to make it very far.

_Oh God… I'm going to die._

She turned her gaze back and closed her eyes.

_Dad… Bill… I'm coming home._

A small, soft sound caught her ears in the distance.

She turned to see that she wasn't the only one to have noticed it. The Infected turned in the direction of the sound, as if searching the airwaves for the disturbance.

It went off again.

And again.

_Church bells?_

The bells picked up in speed, and the infuriated Infected turned and headed for that direction, leaving Zoey behind.

She slumped her head back, feeling dizzy from hunger, exhaustion and blood loss.

A groan made her heart stop.

From the darkness, an infected dressed in preacher garments began to crawl slowly towards her, eyes gleaming, mouth snapping.

Zoey tried to move away, but her wounds burned and her world darkened for a second. Pinned down and with an infected crawling towards her, the surge of relief she'd felt moments ago was washed away.

The infected was on her, now, and it raised its head to go in for a bite.

With a sudden whistle, something sharp thrust into its head, ending its hungry growls. Its body slumped to the ground. The stake penetrating the back of its skull led up to a handle, the handle to a hand.

Zoey couldn't tell who her savior was.

Her head slumped back and her world turned from blurry as the person kneeled over to inspect her. A hand went up and lowered a face mask, revealing an angelic face covered in muck and shrouded in curiosity and worry.

Then Zoey's world went black.


	3. Chapter 3: Meeting Molly

_AN: SPOILER WARNING! FROM HERE ON OUT, THE STORY WILL CONTAIN MAJOR SPOILERS FOR SEASON ONE OF THE WALKING DEAD GAME. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, AND AS ALWAYS, READ AND REVIEW PLEASE! ENJOY ;)_

* * *

She stared at the man in front of her. The man who had always been there for her; the man who had been a father, a friend, a protector to her since the day the world went to hell; The man who had rescued her countless times when she should have died from both the living and the dead.

The man who was dying right here in front of her.

Clementine's heart broke in agony at seeing him like this, tears stinging her eyes.

She loved him too much to let go, too much to acknowledge the dark fate she knew would befall upon him. Lee noticed this and motioned her to him weakly.

"Hey," he whispered, breathlessly. "You're strong, Clem. You… You can do anything!"

"But I'm little!" Clementine protested.

"That… doesn't mean nothin'," Lee told her firmly. "You're gonna see bad stuff. But… it's okay."

"My parents," Clementine broke down. "It's so horrible! And now… you? PLEASE! Please don't be one of them! Please don't become a walker!"

Her tiny, innocent voice broke Lee's heart and tears ran down his cheeks, burning hot against his feverish skin.

"There's only one thing you can do, you know that," he said, finally.

"I don't know if I can!"

"You have to shoot me, honey."

"Lee, no!"

"It's okay, honey. It's okay. In Macon, the first days we met, do you remember? When I went out to rescue that boy, Glenn, we met a girl. She'd been bitten, too. All she wanted was to not come back as a walker, and I remember how hard it was to do that… but I'm glad I did. You don't wanna see me like one of them."

"Okay, Lee." Clementine finally agreed. "I can do it," her voice cracked as the tears flowed freely down her cold cheeks. She loved him so much, she could not let him turn into one of those monsters. "I can!"

"Find Omid and Christa," he commanded. "They're outside of town. They'll take good care of you."

Clementine could not contain her emotions anymore, and she broke down in front of him, wishing that by some miracle her tears would heal his wounds and stop him from leaving her.

"Clem," he said, weakly. "Keep that hair short."

"I will!" She promised. "I'll cut it myself!"

"Good," he said with a nod.

He stared at her for a long time, knowing this would be the last time they would be together. He wanted to hold her and wipe her tears away, tell her everything would be alright, but he knew his time was up.

"I'll miss you, Clem," he said in tears.

"Me, too!" She cried back.

After a long moment of silence, they both knew what had to be done.

Steeling herself, Clementine got up and looked into his eyes for the final time.

Then she put the barrel of the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, Zoey found herself in an emptiness of red. Liquid drops rolled down the side of her cheeks and her side burned. She tried touching her eyes, but her side burned with a hot pain that made her grunt and drop her hands back down.

_Where am I? What's going on?_

The last thing she remembered was being pinned down by an infected man, and being saved by a woman in a face mask.

"Ohh, you awake now," boomed a loud, accented voice from the other side of the room. "Here, I help you with the sponges!"

Kind, gentle hands touched Zoey's cheeks and warm light flooded her vision.

She was in an old bedroom, lying in a strangely comfortable bed. Dozens of family photographs lined the shelves and walls, depicting a Latino family and a large Mexican Flag. Zoey turned her attention back to her side and brushed her fingers against it to find it bandaged.

"Maria did good job in fixing you, I see," said the old Hispanic lady beside her. Her smile conveyed a kindness that made Zoey feel more relaxed. "My name is Esperanza. Let me help you sit."

"Where am I?" Zoey's head swayed dizzily, as Esperanza helped her sit up and gently swing her legs over the bed to rest her back against the cool wall.

"Safe," the small lady said after a moment's thought. "But we talk about that later. Come, you must eat, girl! You must be starving!"

"You can say that again!" She belted in her usual humorous tone. She tested her feet against her weight. The pain burned bright once again, but she refused to go down. After a few steps, the pain began to subside and she could pick up her pace a bit.

She followed Esperanza down a hall and into a tiny living room adorned with more family pictures and religious items.

Sitting on the couch, reading a book, was a young woman, about her age, with tiny glasses and chestnut brown hair she wore in a ponytail.

"Uh, hi," she quickly said, clearly not expecting to see Zoey. "You must be the girl Mol brought in two days ago."

_Two DAYS?! Jesus!_

"I'm Melanie," she said, getting up hurriedly. Her blanket fell down and Zoey caught a glance of her pregnant tummy.

"Zoey," she said, hesitantly. It had been several days since she'd seen anybody else alive. Maybe this side of town wasn't hit as hard as it was up north.

"Please sit, darling," Esperanza urged, pulling up a chair for Zoey. "Dinner will be soon."

"My favorite time of the day," a new voice called in from the back of the room.

An attractive, short-haired blonde with an orange hoodie and a sharp look in her eyes stepped forward, carrying with her a brown grocery bag full of food.

"Found it, Mrs. Ramirez. Right where you said it would be."

"Oh, Molly, you found my store! How wonderful!" the older lady chimed as she took the bag and went back to work cooking up the meal.

"So, you're my guardian angel, huh?" Zoey looked Molly up and down, noting her physique and presence by her stance alone.

Molly shrugged. "They're not as slow as you'd think, are they?"

"I've just never seen them walk that slow before… or _eat_ for that matter!"

Molly put down the cup of water she was drinking. "Where have you been, sister?"

"Pennsylvania," Zoey answered. "They're a lot faster up there."

She saw Molly tense and her eyes glaze for a second. "So, it's gone, then?" She whispered, looking away.

"I'm sorry," Zoey finally said, feeling guilty for not using more tact around these strangers she'd just met.

"Doesn't matter," Molly shrugged again. "Kinda figured it was, anyway."

"I don't mean to sound rude, but who are you people?"

"Survivors," Molly said. "Just trying to stay on top of this thing as long as we can. We've managed to stay alive thanks to Mrs. Ramirez' hospitality. From here we go off and scavenge what little things we can get and bring them back to share with everyone."

"How many of you survived?" Zoey asked, eager to know just how bad things had gotten here.

"Not very many. Seven of us here that I know of, including you. Then again, there was that group I found yesterday."

"Group? When? Where?"

_Louis? Francis? Are you guys alright?_

"Easy, there," Molly prodded. "It was a couple of guys and a little girl trying to find a boat to get out of here. In the end, the only boat they could find was too small to take us all, so I chose to stay."

"My group was looking for a boat, too," Zoey's mind was racing with thoughts and possibilities. Could it be that her friends had met up with another group and gotten aboard a boat?

"You have to take me there! Maybe it's my group! We were looking for a boat, too!"

"Your friends come in by train?" Molly asked, apathetically, raising her glass for another sip.

"Yes!" Zoey yelped, her heart racing with excitement.

"Obnoxious redneck guy and a very polite and educated black guy?"

"That's them, alright!" Zoey said, smiling. Hearing their descriptions again brought joy to her heart, and suddenly, she forgot why she had ever even thought it would be a good idea to abandon them. Now she had a chance to find them, and she was taking it.

Molly exchanged a glance with Melanie, then turned back to Zoey.

"I'm sorry," she said, lowering her head. "That's the northern side of town. It was overrun this morning."

Zoey's heart shattered. Her friends were in there.

"Are you sure? How can you be sure?"

"I saw it today as I was making a run. A horde is passing by," she shifted her attention to Esperanza, "which is why I brought us more than usual. We can't risk the boys going out on runs until the horde passes."

"We have to go out there," Zoey insisted. "I have to find my friends!"

"Sorry doll-"

"Zoey!" she corrected, angrily.

"I'm sorry, Zoey. The risk is just too high, and the odds of finding them are slim to none at best!"

"They're my brothers!" Zoey pleaded. "Don't you know what it's like to lose family?"

A deathly silence fell in the room and Melanie and Esperanza gave each other nervous glances. Molly's eyes watered and narrowed, and Zoey immediately knew she had accidentally struck a chord with her. She waited for a verbal attack, but it never came. Molly lowered her head to the table to wipe a quick tear.

"I do," she said, quietly. "I'll help you find your brothers. But if you can't keep up, I'm leaving you behind." She said.

"I think I can," Zoey said, thinking back on all those times she'd had to keep up with the guys those first days of the plague.

Esperanza brought forth the plates of food she'd been preparing and Zoey's mouth dropped open. It had been almost three months since she last had a decent meal, let alone something like this!

"Dinner time," Esperanza said with a grin.

Out of one of the rooms, a little boy, about the age of nine emerged and jumped onto one of the couches.

"Memo, what did I say about jumping on the furniture?"

"I'm not Memo! I'm Spiderman, grandma!"

"Alright, Spider monkey, settle down," Molly laughed, immediately dropping her dark mood. "Time to eat."

The little boy whooped and leaped forward and onto a chair.

"What about Maria?" Melanie asked, coming to the table.

"She's… in her room," Esperanza's smile faded. She went up to it and knocked softly.

"Maria, ya esta la cena. Vas a comer, mija?"

Maria's response was soft sobbing.

Esperanza leaned her head against the door.

"My poor angel," she said, coming back to the table. "Misses her father every day."

"Yeah," Zoey suppressed the swelling sadness. "Me too."

_Me too._

* * *

Zoey crawled through the darkness and out of the vent into a dim room. Molly looked incredible. She was leaping and twirling like a ballerina, cleaving down four Infected with the Ice axe she wielded.

"About time!" Molly smiled, her voice muffled by the face mask. "You missed all the fun!"

"Save me some next time!" Zoey whispered. "Are we close?"

"Yeah, just a few blocks down. We're cutting through the buildings to avoid the horde of geeks."

"Geeks?"

"Yeah," Molly said as she picked the lock to the door. "You know, the zombies."

"Right, right."

"Okay, I got it. You ready for this."

"Yeah, ready."

Molly kicked the door in to find a bloody, gruesome mess.

Two walkers lay dead on the ground, one was cuffed to the wall…

"Oh my god!" Molly exclaimed. "No!"

"Molly, what's wrong?" Zoey asked, alarmed at her sudden reaction.

"Lee!" She ran up to the dead Infected man in cuffs. "No, not Lee!"

Zoey stepped up behind her and put a hand on Molly's shoulder.

"He was with the group I told you about."

Zoey's blood turned to ice.

_Oh no! Guys! Are you guys okay?_

"He was traveling with a little girl," Molly continued. "Sweetest little girl ever, she was about eight or nine years old. She was always following him everywhere."

This place was overrun by infected, Zoey knew. If the little girl had been with him, she would've most likely been killed, too.

"God," Molly said, stepping back. "I'm sorry. It's just that Lee was a great guy. I can't believe he's gone. And Clementine…" she trailed off.

Zoey sighed, sadly, "Come on, girl. Let's go."

"Wait," Molly said. "Look at these shallow blood puddles."

Zoey looked closer and she could see what resembled tiny shoe prints. They led up and out of the room in a different direction.

"I know I promised to help you out," Molly said. "But if this little girl is alive, I have to find her. Set things straight for once."

"Straight?"

"Nevermind that," Molly shook her head. "You with me or not?"

"Looks like I don't have much of a choice," Zoey said, looting a clip of bullets from the dead cop beside them.

"Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4: Rising Fire

_**AN: HELLO EVERYONE! I HOPE EVERYONE IS ENJOYING THE STORY AS MUCH AS I AM ENJOYING WRITING IT! IF YOU HAVE A SECOND, PLEASE WRITE YOUR REVIEWS, COMMENTS OR PM ME ABOUT ANYTHING YOU HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THE STORY. AS IT IS FOR YOU, I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK SO FAR. YOUR FEEDBACK IS THE MAIN REASON WE DO WHAT WE DO. WELL, THANK YOU, AS ALWAYS AND READ, REVIEW, FOLLOW, FAVORITE, AND MOST OF ALL, ENJOY! CHAPTER 4: RISING FIRE.**_

Melanie stared down at the photo in her hands. The smooth wooden frame felt cool against the uncomforting heat that had woken her up. The photo had been taken by her boyfriend's little brother, Cole, when she and Steven had gone out on their first date to the beach. It was the only thing she'd had time to take before Steven had them hauled off and out of Atlanta in a military transport filled with refugees.

The dead had found their way inside the camp and with a single bite, their numbers multiplied at a staggering rate, until they had completely outnumbered the living.

Overrun and cornered, Steven forced them both into the last vehicle available and stayed behind to fight off the surging horde. She had witnessed his horrible death at the hands of the walkers with her own eyes.

The vision haunted her dreams and thoughts ever since, and now, even after three months of coping, she still could not get the macabre scene out of her head.

Tears stung against her eyes as she realized how much she missed and needed him.

How much the baby would need him.

She pressed a hand against her belly as a nauseating wave flowed through her. She leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes, fighting against the awful feeling for a moment. The entire house was blistering hot, and sweat streamed down her forehead as she tried to take in slow, cooling breaths.

"Can't sleep?"

She looked up at the chirp of the familiar voice.

Cole's blonde hair was a mess as he lifted his head up from the bed.

Melanie used the cover of darkness to hide the picture under the couch pillows.

"This place feels like a furnace!"

"Why is it so hot in here?" The little boy sat up, his tiny body glistening in the heat.

Before she could answer, she heard a tiny voice squeaking outside of their room. Slowly, she rose from the couch, her hand curling around the baseball bat she kept with her.

"What is it?" Cole whispered.

"Shh."

Melanie slowly approached the door to their room and opened it slightly.

An intense wave of heat hit her, driving the air out of her lungs. She suffocated for a moment, almost falling to her knees.

"Melanie!" Cole jumped out of bed and ran to her, catching her unbalanced, swaying body.

Melanie shook the dizzying feeling from her head and tightened her grip on the doorknob.

"Are you okay?"

"Mommy," cried young Memo outside. His small frame was leaning against the door to his mother's room, weakly. "Mommy, are you okay? Let me in. Please?"

Melanie stared compassionately at the little boy, feeling the sorrow that this forsaken world had handed them down.

Mrs. Esperanza came out from her room in the back, hurriedly.

"Is everything alright?" Melanie asked as she passed by their door.

Esperanza didn't answer. She quickly walked up to her daughter's room and fumbled with the keys she had.

She unlocked the door and went inside.

The heat was unbearable here. Maria sat naked in the middle of the room in a fetal position, rocking herself back and forth, crying miserably. Her ripped clothes were laid out on the floor.

Esperanza's heart stopped and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up at the bizarre sight.

Desperate to get her daughter out of there, she rushed forward and placed her hands on Maria's burning shoulders.

* * *

Zoey gingerly pressed the wires of the device she held in place. With a short spark, the small, cylindrical object came to life, a small light in its center began blinking green. The pipebomb was ready.

"Here, keep this in your bag," she motioned to Molly, clipping the other one on her belt.

"What are they?"

"We call it the Pipebomb. It's a homemade explosive that drives the Infected crazy."

Molly snorted, quietly. "Infected, as if it were a simple cold."

Zoey ignored her remark and grabbed her own bag, swinging it over her shoulder as she walked. They'd been searching for this little girl all night and into the morning, and Zoey was beginning to feel the exhaustion of her healing wounds, coupled with the scorching autumn heat. They'd covered much of the surrounding area, jumping from rooftop to rooftop and clearing all the buildings down to the last closet, but there was still no sign of her.

Molly plunged the ice axe into an Infected man's head as they walked out of the last building they were checking.

"Ready for this?"

"Yeah, let's do it."

They turned the corner and came face to face with a hundreds of infected.

The horde turned in unison at the sound of their arrival.

"Back! Back! Back!" Molly yelled, but it was too late. The exit door closed, leaving them both outside in the streets.

"Shit!" Molly growled, angrily. "How the hell did I not see this coming?!"

"I got this one," Zoey laughed, pulling out the pipebomb she'd just made.

"Fire in the hole," she winked and thumbed the activation switch.

The bomb gave off an ear piercing rhythm of beeps that made Molly's skin crawl and the Infected roar with agony and anger.

"What the hell are you doing? You're gonna get the whole city on us!" She yelled.

"Exactly." Zoey turned to the Infected, waving the cylinder above her head. "Ya want it? Take it!"

She threw the pipebomb as far as she could, into the thickest part of the horde. Molly stared, amazed, as the infected fell over each other, desperately trying to get to the torturous noise.

The cylinder's green blinking light glowed into an ominous red, and then the bomb went off.

With a loud explosion, flames consumed the bodies around it, sending them flying in bloody, gory pieces across the street.

"Easy as cake," Zoey chirped, proudly.

Molly was staring past her.

"I told you you'd have the city on us with that thing."

Zoey's blood went cold as she remembered what Molly had said back at the house.

She turned as thousands of dead voices screeched out, the noise from the pipebomb drawing them all to their sector.

"Molly, give me the other pipebomb!"

But Molly was already running, athletically jumping over the broken bodies of the infected fried in the pipebomb's wake.

She drew her pistols and began picking off the nearest infected, backing up steadily behind Molly. She pulled off two shots before aiming for the next target.

To her frustration, the shots only angered the infected. It even seemed to pick up its pace.

_Are you freakin' kidding me?!_

She aimed back at the man and shot it in the head. This time he fell and didn't get back up.

Her ammo was immediately drained. Holstering her pistols, she turned and took off after Molly, who was furiously cutting down all infected who tried to get near her.

Molly turned as an infected lunged itself at her, and was intercepted by the metallic pipe Zoey had found in one of the buildings. Its rotten head caved in under the impact.

"We need to find a safe room!" Zoey yelled out to her.

"A what?"

Zoey swung the pipe around, swiping off the head of another infected.

"Where did you find me?" She yelled over the noise of the infected.

"The old church, near Riverdale!"

"We have to go there! How far is it?"

Molly swung her axe like a scythe, decapitating three infected at the same time. She tried fruitlessly to wipe the blood off her face.

Molly shook her head. "Two miles down the opposite way! Our safest bet is the roof!

"Over there!" Zoey pointed at a military jeep that had crashed into a building.

Molly nodded and picked up her speed.

For the first time since she had left her friends back at the bridge, Zoey heard that blood curdling growl. The Hunter flew in from the shadows. It tackled Molly to the ground, her head slamming heard against the concrete sidewalk. It positioned itself on top of her and immediately began to tear at her clothes and body.

"Get off of her, you son of a bitch!" Zoey roared, shoving the hunter against a car. Dazed, the hunter stumbled around and tripped. Zoey walked up to it and buried the pipe into his skull.

Too late, she noticed, that the car she had thrown the hunter against was alarmed. It began to blare hysterically, calling out to the infected around them.

"Shit!" Zoey yelled through gritted teeth. "Come on, Molly! Time to move!"

But Molly did not respond. She lay motionless in a pooling puddle of blood.

"Come on, girl, I'm not leaving you behind!" Zoey pulled Molly's motionless body onto her back. Bill had kept them all in shape with regular exercise routines, which included lifting up and carrying fallen members.

_Even in death, you're still saving my life._

She staggered under Molly's weight, but regained her footing and slowly made her way up to the jeep, not daring to look behind.

She could hear the shuffling feet and anguished moans of the infected behind them, gaining inches per second, eager to tear into their flesh.

She propped Molly's body against the jeep, glancing inside the giant hole in the wall.

There was no time to try getting to the roof, even if Zoey wasn't carrying the full weight of an adult behind her. She turned and saw the infected almost within reaching distance.

Without thinking twice, Zoey swung Molly's body on her shoulders again and jumped in through the hole. They both landed on the floor, hard. The glass around them cut against their skin, but Zoey's heart was pumping so fast, she couldn't even feel it. Pulling Molly over her again, she limped as fast as she could to the back of the room.

As the infected crashed into the building, Zoey slammed the door shut, engulfing her and Molly in complete darkness. Light poured in through cell-like bars that made up the upper half of the door.

She could hear the broken vocal chords of the infected roaming around outside.

She hoped that their sluggishness would discourage them from trying to break down the doors, like the infected up north did. The infected fell in and stumbled to their feet. But rather than hunting them down like they normally did, they just roamed aimlessly, as if searching for a lost coin in a haystack.

Relief flooded into Zoey as she watched them walk away and linger somewhere else.

Suddenly an infected slammed its face against the door, shaking it violently, teeth snapping, desperate to get in. Zoey jumped in surprise and dropped her weapon in the darkness. It made a loud clang that made her wince. The shaking grew more violent, but the door stood firm. Zoey fumbled for a light switch, hoping the electricity was working here.

She was leaning over and picking up her weapon when she heard a low groaning in the darkness. A cold, skinny hand touched her neck. Zoey screamed in alarm and jumped back, pipe held up high moving to strike.

"It's okay! It's me!" Molly groaned. "Where are we?"

"Ya could'a said something, ya know!" Zoey growled, her heart coming back to life.

Six more infected had wandered to the door and were now pressing their faces up against it, howling in hunger.

"Shut up!" Molly grunted, reaching back for Hilda and stabbing through the bars at the infected, ending their cries.

As Molly hacked away at the infected gathering at the door, Zoey searched in the darkness for a switch. Her hand bumped a cool, metal object. She followed it up and at last, her patience was rewarded. She thumbed the switch and the flood lights shined bright in her face.

She grunted in surprise at the blinding lights and turned away.

"Oh my god," Molly said, wide eyed, pausing her axe swings as she looked past Zoey.

Zoey turned, and the sight brought tears to her eyes.

There, on the far side of the room, was a bed and three tables filled with supplies, food, weapons and ammunition. Messages of hope, defeat and jokes were scribbled all over the walls.

"We made it to," Zoey said.

"Yeah," Molly agreed, squatting down over a particular message written in blue chalk. "We made it."


	5. Chapter 5: Old Wounds

Several hours passed, it seemed, until the moans of the dead finally faded back into the distance, merging with the sea of infected outside. Zoey ran her fingers along the smooth barrel of the hunting rifle she'd found, taking comfort in its coolness. As she watched Molly reading the messages written on the walls around them eagerly, her thoughts drifted back to that first night after the infection had taken her parents from her. Alone, unarmed and afraid, she had wondered the dead streets for hours into the night. Had she not been found and rescued by Bill, she would not have made it to see the sun the next morning. He had taken her in to a saferoom he had found, bandaged her wounds, comforted her, and kept her safe. She saw in Molly's face the same awe she had felt the very first time the light lit up and the dozens of messages on the walls popped out, reminders that there were still people out there, like them, left behind to die in this lost world.

"This is unbelievable." Molly passed a hand over the words and paused. "There's a resistance movement planned out here! Who knows, maybe these people are still alive." Molly's words brought her back from her thoughts. Zoey let her eyes rest on her, unable to tell her the harsh reality; that almost everyone was gone. She put the rifle back down and leaned back against the bed she was sitting on, enjoying the momentary peace she always felt inside a saferoom. As she lied down, she felt something awkward and solid between the small of her back and the bed.

She shifted over and pulled the blankets down, reaching in. She wrapped her hand around a plastic strap and pulled the object out. It was a small, sky blue girl's backpack. Zoey frowned and unzipped it. She found some scissors, hair bands, a camera, a sketchpad and some crayons and chalk. A spark of sadness pierced her heart when she opened the sketchpad.

In her mind's eye, she could see the little girl working hard on her drawings, dedicating perhaps hours a day on each piece. They showed incredible attention to detail, but they also showed how young the artist was. She could not have been older than nine or ten years old, Zoey realized sadly, and she wondered if she had made it out of Savannah alive, or as an infected Zombie, roaming endlessly along with the hordes.

She turned the page with the flying cat and came across two leaf rubbings. The name on the blue one read "For Lee," and the other read "By Clem."

"Molly? What's the little girl's name again?"

"Clementine, I think..."

Zoey picked up the sketchpad and walked over to where Molly was kneeling. "I think we're on the right track!" Molly took the sketchpad and went through it, quickly. The drawing on the next page depicted a family of three.

"Kenny," she breathed.

"Who?"

"He was with their group when I met them. The obnoxious redneck I told you about? This must've been his family before…" She gulped back guilt, blinked and hid her emotions.

Zoey's heart sank. She had been expecting the two survivors Molly had mentioned back at the house to be Louis and Francis. The fact that they had arrived on a train had given her hope. She looked back out through the saferoom.

"They aren't the survivors from my group." Every word cut her deeper than any knife ever could. The moans of the infected –walkers, she'd heard Melanie call them- died down a bit, giving her a chance to clear her throat and continue. "We were on a bridge somewhere around here. Our plan was to find a boat and sail off to the Florida Keys. We lost-" she choked out a moment, regained her composure. "We lost a good man. The entire time we had been here, I'd been cruel to him for always pressing forward, never stopping to help survivors around us, just looking out for us. And now I understand why."

"He knew about the horde?"

"He must have."

"I'm sorry." Molly looked down at the drawing. "I know what it's like to lose the one reason you have for fighting on."

Zoey wiped a tear from her eye, refusing to let her emotions completely take over her. Pushing the guilt from her chest, she accepted the fact that she would probably never see her friends again. "Has the bridge been overrun?" She asked, softly, not wanting to hear what she already knew.

"Yeah." Molly said, looking away. "I'm sorry."

Zoey let the air she had been holding in out, and with it, all doubt that she had chosen the right choice; the only choice that could've kept her alive.

"You saved me, back there." Molly continued. "You were pretty amazing! I don't normally do this, but if you need a place to stay, you can bunk in with me. I owe you, anyways!"

"Thanks, Molly. I have nowhere else to go but forward, anyways," she said. "Alright, let's find Clementine before something else does."

* * *

His old muscles pulled weakly against the rope, as the other six men pushed. They were tired, spent from the hot day and the encounter they'd had from the man they'd stolen this boat from.

_That son of a bitch deserved what he got!_ Vernon spat on the ground, pushing Kenny out of his mind and setting it on pulling the boat to the dock ahead.

He and his group of cancer patients had sneaked up onto the group the morning after they'd met. Finding Kenny guarding the boat alone, they'd quickly overpowered him and taken the only means of escape the group had found. He felt especially bad for the little girl, Clementine. Without this boat, she would surely die, swept away by the coming horde along with Lee and rest of the survivors holed up in Savannah.

"Almost there, Vernon." Michael flashed the now toothless smile Kenny had left him with. "We just need to lower that bridge! From there it's about a block from Rayford port."

They slowly made their way to the raised bridge.

"Dammit, I could have sworn it had been lowered again two days ago. I guess somebody escaped… _again_!"

"Now it's our turn," Vernon hissed. "How do you suppose we get it down?"

"Here's a panel. I'll get it."

Michael ran ahead and keyed in a sequence, and the old bridge rumbled in protest.

For a moment, as the bridge began to lower, Vernon took the first long breath of relief. One he had not felt in a long time. He felt hope, as well. Hope that he and the others would survive, that despite everything they'd done to every survivor they'd come across, the means would eventually be justified by the ends.

That hope was gone when the bridge lowered, completely.

Millions of voices cried out a unified gargle as a second horde, much bigger than the one they were running from, turned from the other side of the bridge and ran across, straight for them. They spilled out over the bridge like a thundering river.

Michael screamed and began to run, but a long tongue jetted out from atop the bridge and wrapped itself around his neck, snapping it as it pulled him up and over the horde to hang from the beams above.

Panic ensued as the patients turned to flee, only to find the Savannah horde directly behind them.

"Vernon! Hel-, "the cries of a woman in their group were drowned out as the walkers brought her down. Vernon screamed and ran, dodging a walker that had lunged at him. Others were smothered by giant armed monsters who charged in like bulls, while others were bathed in acids shot by spitting walkers. Vernon ignored the cries of the people in his group and ran for a small building to the left. He got to the door and slammed himself against it. The glass broke and he reached in to the other side and unlocked the door.

Without warning, a legless walker took hold of his leg and sunk its teeth into his calf muscle.

Vernon howled in pain and surprise, yanking his leg back and forcing himself into the room. It was wide and spacious. He crawled over to the farthest corner, ignoring the blood pooling on his right shoe.

He huddled up against the corner in the darkness, waiting to die.

"Damn infection burns like hell, don't it?" The question came with a hard blow to the side of his head. Vernon crumpled under the strike, confusion turning to panic. The figure in the dark approached relentlessly. "Seems to me like fate ain't in your favor, Vernon. Guess that makes us two."

Kenny switched on the light, and Vernon shuddered at his horrible visage. His arm was bitten in several places and swollen, covered in disgusting boils. Part of his face matched his scaly look. His left eye glowed, and his voice was a wrecked gargle, the virus clearly in his voice.

"You killed us, you sonova bitch!" He swung the bat around, hitting Vernon again and again.

"We were gonna make it outta this and you killed us! You killed Lee!" _Swing_. "Clem!" _Swing._

"AND ME!" This time the bat broke off, along with Vernon's kneecap. Vernon screamed in agony.

"Please! I'm sorry! Please don't kill me!"

Kenny panted as he stared into Vernon's horrified eyes. "I got bit once in Savannah, and again in Rayford by one of the new walkers. I'm going to turn, but not into a walker. Into something else. Something out of your worst nightmares. I don't know how or why. All I know is that you killed us," his voice disappeared into a monstrous gargle. "Consider us even."

Kenny grunted and screamed as the mutation of the virus completely overtook him. He crumpled to the floor in a fetal position, convulsing, until he finally went still. Vernon stared, wishing for a quick death, as what was once Kenny rose from the floor like a lion.

With a loud, blood-curdling roar, the hunter pounced on Vernon. Nobody heard his screams.

* * *

Zoey swung herself over the white picket fence, landing lightly next to Molly. They'd waited until the walkers cleared the area and headed out towards a nearby countryside, following a lead they'd found in the saferoom claiming to have a resistance camp out there. But when they reached the camp, it was already abandoned, the tents burned to the ground, shells of ammunition littering the ground. Unwilling to give up, they continued to walk down the hillside, enjoying the nice, unusually sunny weather.

Zoey closed her eyes against the comforting warmth. "Feels just like my summerhouse back in Daytona Beach," she commented, stretching out her muscles and forgetting about the infection for a moment.

"Summerhouse, huh? And I thought I'd had it made when I got me and my sister our own apartment!"

They shared a laugh and Zoey felt the strangeness of a smile on her face. She resisted the urge to ask her for her sister. She'd learned a long time ago that if your friends or family were not with you, they were most likely dead.

"We should camp out here, too! Set up a small castle or something!" She joked, instead.

"Yeah, right!" Molly snorted. "I feel safer the higher up I go. Mrs. Esperanza's place may not be the best, but we've blocked off the bottom five floors of the apartments. There's no way the zombies can get in there unless they can fly or jump or climb."

Zoey's neck snapped up at the thought. "You haven't seen any that can?"

Molly snorted again. "Of course not! These useless meatsacks can't even catch up to grandmother's power walks!"

Zoey pursed her lips in thought. The Zombies they'd been fighting off all day were mutated variations of the virus. _Could it be that the virus hasn't mutated here, yet?_

She decided not to worry about it. If and when they did mutate, she'd be there, waiting to send them back.

Molly stopped, and Zoey could feel the apprehension radiating out of her like steam.

"Zoey."

Zoey closed her eyes as Molly's steaming tension built up inside of her. She had wanted to avoid the topic of the special infected for as long as she could. If these people didn't know the horrors out there, they would still have the hope to fight on till the end.

"Look over there," Molly said, instead.

Zoey turned in the direction Molly was pointing at, and saw it. By an enormous tree in the middle of the field, there was a small figure moving. It, too, had stopped and was now watching them intently. Zoey raised the barrel of her rifle and looked through the sights. She saw a little girl covered from head to toe in blood and gore, clinging on to a pistol tightly and pointing it directly at her.

"Molly, I think we found her!"

"Clementine!" Molly waved her hands in the air, shouting loudly. Through the scope, Zoey saw the girl look up from her aim, questioningly, but never lowering the gun.

"Put the rifle down," Molly told her. "We found her."

As they neared her, Zoey saw that the little girl was trembling.

"It's okay, honey," she told her softly. "We're here to help you. We're not gonna hurt you."

Clementine didn't budge or blink. The barrel of the pistol was still trained on her head, and Zoey began to feel uneasiness tugging at her.

"Clem, it's me, Molly. Remember me?" Molly slowly pulled her facemask and hoodie over her face, and recognition instantly fell over Clementine's face.

"Molly," she breathed, her tired eyes watering. "Molly." Her tiny body swayed once, and collapsed to the ground. Molly gasped and ran to pick her up, quickly examining her for bites.

"How did she get out of the city?" Zoey asked, incredulously. They'd almost gotten killed just crossing a few blocks, and they were armed adults.

"She must've slipped out when your group lowered the bridge… _twice_!"

Zoey passed a hand through the little girl's bloody cheek.

"We have to get her back to the house!"

"Agreed," Zoey said. "I can carry her."

Molly stared at her. "You've got a healing wound. She is covered in walker gore! You could get infected!"

"I'll be fine," Zoey shrugged. "Let's get out of here."

She picked Clementine up and hauled her over her shoulders. Her weight felt like nothing against her back, and Molly fastened a harness around Clementine and Zoey's bodies.

"Where did you get that?"

"I picked it up from the safehouse. Figured it'd come in handy if I –oh, I don't know, got knocked off conscious again."

"Yeah, safehouses are where you want to go when you're low on ammo, food or medical supplies."

"I wish I'd known that," Molly commented. "We've been out of medical supplies for weeks!"

Zoey stopped cold.

"Wait. How did you patch up my wounds then?"

"That was Maria, Esperanza's daughter. She was a CNA for two months before the freakshow happened! Don't worry, she used the last sterile bandages we had and yes, she did wash the blood off her hands when she was finished.

Zoey's blood turned to ice and her heart stopped beating.

"We have to go back!" She said with urgency, leaping over the fence and into a dead run. "We have to go back now!"

She ran as fast as she could, knowing Molly was right behind her. Just as they reached the city limits and got onto a roof, the Riverdale Bridge began to lower.

To her horror, the new horde of infected, carrying the special infected with them, surged forward and poured onto the streets.


	6. Chapter 6: Escape

The flames poured out into the kitchen like spilled water, running through the old wooden furniture and advancing over the living room. They enveloped the old sofas and worn out carpets and spread across to the rooms. Melanie sat at the farthest corner of the room, holding Cole in her arms. Black smoke snaked in from the bottom of the door and began to cloud over their heads.

"Is it almost over?" Cole whimpered, clutching tightly against Melanie.

Melanie was too paralyzed to respond. All she could hear were the whimpering cries of the monster outside. What she had just witnessed in Maria's bedroom had snuffed out the fragile flame of sanity left within her.

"Mel," Cole tightened his hug on her, his voice breaking into a sob. "I don't want to die!"

A hard thump slammed loudly against their door, making Cole jump and cry.

Two more thumps were followed by a third. Melanie's heart began to pound loudly in her ears as she felt death near. The monster had found them. She could imagine its razor claws stabbing against the door, hungry for a fresh kill. The weakened door finally gave in and smoke washed in like a tidal wave. Melanie and Cole screamed in unison at the sight of their searcher.

The hooded figure stood in the entrance, crouched over like a stalking lion.

"Get away from us!" Melanie reached for the baseball bat, but it was just out of reach. The hooded figure leaped through the smoke and landed in a roll beside them, grabbing them both and pulling them to their feet.

"Come on, move it!" She yelled, her voice muffled by her face mask.

"Molly, thank god!" Melanie struggled to get up weakly from the ground with fresh tears of relief. Molly's response was muffled by her face mask and the roar of the raging fire outside. Molly extended a hand and ran it through Melanie's face.

"Were you bitten?" She asked, coldly.

"No. But Mrs. Esperanza-," Melanie's voice broke down as she mentally relived the macabre scene.

Molly's gaze lowered momentarily before her head snapped back up. Something in the air felt off. The hairs in the back of her neck stood at point as she felt a nightmarish presence approaching. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, her survival instincts telling her to get down, and get out.

She dove forward in time to slap a hand over Melanie's face in time to muffle her scream. Molly shoved her and Cole down and under the bed and squeezed herself in as best as she could, just as a ghastly figure passed through the smoking doorway.

She was a frail, naked woman with sickly pale skin. A golden crucifix swiveled from neck, side to side, the soft twinkle of colliding metals adding to the horrific sight. She held her hands over her head as she sobbed and cried, her feet slowly shuffling around the room. The heat that came off of her shriveled skin felt like a bon fire, causing paper objects to shrivel in ashes.

Molly tightened her grip over Melanie's lips as the witch bumped against the bed and stopped. The witch was momentarily startled. It lowered her hands to attack the invisible attacker, and Molly caught a glimpse of her face, briefly.

_Maria?_ Molly frowned in confusion.

The witch groaned softly for what seemed like an eternity, then continued sobbing and turned to wander out of the room. As she was turning around, Molly breathed out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding in.

Without warning, the witch's knee bumped against the side of the bed, making it shake violently. Molly realized, too late, that the movement had caused dust to fall from the bottom of the bed.

Cole sneezed loudly, his allergies kicking in.

The witch growled in anger as it turned back in the direction of the noise. She swung a clawed arm down into the bed, coming within centimeters of Molly's face. Molly rolled to the side to avoid it, losing her grip on Melanie as she did. Melanie wailed frantically as the Witch clawed furiously at the bed. With an uppercut swipe, the bed fell in two pieces and they came face to face with the witch's enraged face. Fear pumped like venom through Molly's veins, poisoning her resolve as she stared into the Witch's red glowing, soulless eyes. Her lower jaw dislocated into a deformed, twisted shriek, and for the first time in a very long time, Molly screamed in horror as the witch brought her claws down.

The claws missed wide, plunging into the mattress as the witch's head snapped back. Molly looked up to see what had distracted the Witch.

Behind them, Zoey wrapped her fist around the handful of the witch's hair she had caught and yanked back, sending the witch falling over into a small bedside table.

"Go!" she yelled over the commotion. Molly pulled Melanie and Cole from the corner and out of the room. Zoey watched them leave from the corner of her eye as she pulled out the lighter she kept in her left pocket. It had been Bill's lighter. She had taken it from him in his sleep, in an effort to get him to stop smoking.

She felt a small spark of sadness in her heart as she watched the witch scramble on the ground. Witches were unpredictable and could become very violent or very scared. In the end, she was still a threat and Zoey could not let the woman that had saved her life to continue living, if that's what she was, like this. Putting away all thoughts from her head, she lit the lighter and tossed it into the fray.

The witch's skin lit brightly like gasoline and she wailed wildly, swinging her arms and destroying anything near her. Zoey backed from the door and ran as the witch rose with newfound strength and rage. She hauled herself off from the floor and made a run towards Zoey, burning hands outstretched, clawed fingers snapping in the air as she chased her into the living room. Zoey searched the room fast and saw Molly and Melanie climbing down one of the windows into a fire escape outside.

She ran towards them, but didn't see the stack of toy cars in the floor. Her feet shot out from beneath her as she was sent flying to the ground. Her cheek burned brightly against the old carpet and she struggled to get herself up. The witch was now upon her, its claws raised high over her head for the killing blow.

Zoey blinked once and almost missed the small shadow that shifted from across the room and shot out, intercepting the witch and sending her crashing against a bookshelf. Zoey stared in horror at her savior. Maria's little boy, Memo, crawled over on all four limbs, his eyes reddened and glowing ominously in the dark as low, hungry growls escaped his mutated, bloody mouth.

"Hunter!" She yelled, pointing at the tiny hooded figure. Molly acknowledged from across the room with a nod as she hurried Cole in through the open window.

The small hunter stalked the witch, his growls becoming louder and more threatening. Zoey didn't waste time admiring the rare sight of two special infected fighting over a prize. She leaped to the side and out of the way as the witch and hunter, once mother and son, gave off feral roars and attacked each other.

Zoey swung herself through the window and landed nimbly on the fire escape. She quickly scanned the rooftops and spotted Molly on the next roof, a few feet from the apartments. Below them was a sea of infected, drawn from all corners of the city towards the burning building. She aimed her jump, ran back and leaped, landing in a roll on the rooftop. She slumped to the ground, breathlessly, grateful to feel the burn of the cement against her hands.

Molly was bent over, her hands on her knees as she surveyed the scene around them.

"We can't stay here," she told her as Zoey approached. "We have to move, now!"

Zoey glanced over the ledge and saw the infected she was used to seeing. The common infected, the ones that could run and climb. Realizing the danger they were still in, she quickly walked over to the small room where she had hidden Clementine and their supplies in. Clementine's head was slumped against the wall as she slept softly. Zoey ignored the ache in her muscles as she lifted Clementine up in her arms. There was no time to put the harness on, so she swung Clementine's backpack on and took her in her arms. Molly was swirling around acrobatically, cutting down the infected that made it up into the roof.

"The door!" Molly yelled and Zoey turned in time to see the door that lead up to the roof. The infected inside were pounding against it, the weak door beginning to give in.

"Find a way out of here!" She yelled, handing Clementine to Melanie and Cole as she surged forward at the door, slamming it shut just as the lock gave in. She could feel the weight of dozens of infected pressing hungrily against it.

"There's nothing to hold this door back!" She yelled at Molly. "We're gonna have to bolt!" Molly cursed as she sunk Hilda into an infected woman's head.

"Over here!" Cole chirped. Zoey craned her neck to see a long piece of lumber used to repair the shack in the rooftop. There were similar pieces laid across the rest of the rooftops, effectively bridging the gap between the roofs.

The only gap they needed to bridge was this one. She nodded at Molly, who took off for the piece. The infected behind slammed against the door hard, and for one panicked moment, the door opened, but Zoey slammed all her weight back against it and closed it. She looked back up to see Molly sliding the wooden lumber across the ledge to the next rooftop, bridging the gap below. Cole and Melanie crossed first, hands outstretched, never looking down.

"Zoey!" Molly motioned with her head, Clementine in her arms. "Go, I'll cover you!"

_Here goes nothing_! Zoey thought for an instant before taking off.

The door swung with the weight of the aggravated infected, the force propelling Zoey into a dead run. She quickly took Clementine from Molly and dashed across the bridge. She turned back to see Molly fighting her way across, coming close to falling several times. She beheaded an obese infected and kicked him into the crowd of infected behind, knocking them all down to the streets below. Molly quickly ran across and jumped onto the roof, following the others as they made their way across the unconventional escape route.

She cursed out loud when she lifted her gaze a dozen roofs later.

It was a dead end. The wooden bridge had been broken, cutting them off from the next rooftop, which was higher and farther than the previous ones. Behind them, the infected were gaining ground, chasing them across the rooftops. There was nowhere to go. The infected would not cease until they were all dead. She cursed out loud again and slammed her fist against a table nearby, unwilling to leave them behind.

Zoey forced herself to remain calm. They would find a way out this. They _needed_ to find a way out of this. She looked around the rooftop for something to use and a glint of light caught her eye. At first, she didn't think it was anything but when she moved her head in that angle, she caught it again. She followed its source and pinned it on the next rooftop.

_Glass?_

It moved again, this time in two different directions. Zoey squinted her eyes and, to her surprise, she saw a pair of squinted eyes looking back down at her from behind a pair of glasses. A chubby man in his early 20s was watching them from the next rooftop.

"Hey! Over here!" She waved her hands above her head, catching everyone's attention. "Please help us!"

The man's eyebrows twisted in, as if troubled or in conflicted thought. He turned to talk to someone, and then turned back to them. Two more heads poked out from the rooftop to study them and disappeared. Zoey strained to hear what they were saying.

"They've got kids, Angelo!" The man was saying. "We've got to help them!"

"Absolutely not!" Someone responded, shaking his head. "We can't save everyone, we have to keep moving."

"But Aaron's right," a woman said. "We can't leave them if we can help."

"Don't you people get it?" The man rapped back angrily. "Every second we waste is a second more we give the dead time to catch up! Is that what you want, Ana? Is that what you want for Jillian?"

Silence followed before, one by one, the heads disappeared from the ledge.

"No! Please!" Melanie begged. "Please don't leave us! We can help you!"

But the man disappeared behind the ledge.

Melanie began to cry as Molly slammed Hilda against the table, cutting it in two.

"Guess we're on our own," she murmured quietly.

The sound of the raging horde rang close as the infected made it to the roof beside them. In seconds, they would be completely overrun. Exhausted and with nowhere to run, they would make their final stand here. Zoey breathed in relaxing breaths, preparing herself for the fight of her life when a shadow came over her. She ducked instinctively as the man in glasses landed beside them on his side, hard. In his arms, he carried a piece of wood.

"Come on, ladies!" He called as he grunted with the strain of positioning the wooden bridge over to the next rooftop.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Aaron?!" Growled the man Zoey assumed was Angelo.

Aaron didn't respond. He drew two pistols and handed one to Molly.

"We'll cover them, then you go. I'll cover your escape."

Molly nodded, raising the pistol and firing at the closest infected man. It fell backwards, taking two more of them with him down to the streets below.

Cole was the first to cross the bridge.

"Watch your step, honey," Zoey warned him as he made his way across. Zoey took Melanie's shaking hand and lead her across. "Don't look down," she told her soothingly.

Melanie whimpered as the dead amassed below them, hands stretching for them, fingers clenching the air, trying desperately to reach them. The bridge slipped once, causing Melanie to wobble and sob. Zoey tightened her grip on her and shifted her body weight to avoid falling. She turned back to see Molly hesitantly stepping on the bridge, testing its support, waiting for the others to make it across. Zoey clung onto Clementine as she made the leap that landed her on the rooftop.

Molly dashed across the bridge, turning twice to cover Aaron's reload.

"Go!" She yelled when they were all safely on the other side. Aaron nodded, walking back. He accidentally bumped it, shifting it and almost making it topple.

Molly kept the steady stream of cover fire as he knelt down to reposition the bridge.

"Help her!" Zoey told one of the youngest men in the group, who was armed with twin mpk5 submachine guns strapped to his arms. He ignored her as he stood idly by, watching Aaron struggle. The three others stood by, as well. Not bothering to intervene.

A man in his mid 40s walked over to the ledge to see Aaron struggling with the board. Beside him, Molly's pistol clicked out of ammo.

"I got it!" Aaron called out. "I'm coming up!"

"Watch out!" Molly yelped, but it was too late.

A six foot tall walker dropped upon him, jabbing its sharp teeth against Aaron's cheek. Aaron screamed as he shoved the walker aside and fumbled on all fours up the bridge. In the struggle he lost his glasses, and his steps become awkward and unsure on the wobbling bridge. The walker pounced forward on the ground and bit him again in the leg. He screamed again, kicking the walker aside. He brought a hand to his cheek and shook his head in disbelief.

"No," he began to cry. "No! No! No! No!"

He dashed across the bridge, but in a swift move and to Zoey and Molly's dismay, Angelo stared him down, coldly. "I told you what would happen if you got yourself bitten," he called out, bitterly. "You were useless from the moment you joined us. Now, be useful for once!" He kicked the board and it moved under Aaron's weight.

"No! Angelo, please!" He begged, but Angelo gave one final, hard kick and the board gave out, tumbling to the ground, taking Aaron with it. Aaron screamed as he fell to his death below. Molly and Zoey looked over the ledge to see dozens of walkers crawling over Aaron's body like children over a broken piñata.

"How could you be so cruel?" Zoey growled, turning to Angelo. Angelo's face was red with fury.

"This was all your faults!" He vociferated. "We lost a man because of you!"

"Although, to be honest," the young Mexican boy with the submachine guns chuckled, stepping forward, "I'm not sure if we should be hanging them or thanking them!"

Both he and Angelo let out heartless belly laughs, and Angelo's temper dissipated immediately.

"That's enough," one of the women said, firmly. She was dressed in a military uniform with the name "Bennett" patched on the side. "Aaron was a good man who gave his life to save another. That's more of a man you'll ever be, Angelo."

"Say whatever you want, Georgia Peaches, your opinion isn't needed. Only your guns."

Bennett shook her head and ignored him.

"We have a small camp outside of town," she said. "We are the Resistance. Well, what's left of it, anyways. I'm sure you and your little ones are tired, but we need to keep moving."

She stepped back to reveal what they had been working on.

"We need to finish repairing these bridges so that we and others can escape Savannah."

"With this new horde washing in, we need to pick up the pace," Angelo said as he walked by. "So say goodbye to Savannah, forever. You won't be coming back, if you plan on heading out with us."

"After what we've seen, what makes you think we're going to join your group?" Zoey grunted.

"Angelo is an asshole, but he's the only one that makes the hard decisions, and Alex may seem like a bully, but he keeps us all safe." Bennett assured her. "You and your children will be safe with us, I promise. What you saw today is something that had to happen."

Zoey began to protest but was cut off.

"She's right. Aaron was a dead man," Molly said, softly.

"There was nothing we could do but end his misery. Now, you can either come with us or stay out of our way," Angelo huffed. "But if you plan on staying, make yourselves useful."

Zoey looked at Molly questioningly.

There was no place left to go, nobody else left to turn to. She breathed in deeply, wishing for Bill to be here, to guide her. She looked back across the city, where a large black cloud of smoke bellowed from their apartments, and even further down at the Riverdale/Savannah bridge where she'd last seen Louis and Francis. Then she looked back down to Clementine and Cole. Did they need to suffer more than they already had when a warm bed and a meal was right in front of them?

She shook her head, releasing her breath and nodding.

"Alright, what do you want us to do?"

"You a fast learner?" Angelo asked without looking up as he hammered away at a nail in the boards. "Pick up a tool and get to work."

The entire time, Molly did not take her eyes off of Alex, who swiveled around, holding his weapons tightly.

Nor did he take his off of her.

* * *

It was sunset by the time they reached their safehouse in the hills, 20 minutes outside of town. The house was as big as a mansion, fortified by walls and scrapped cars. On their way back, Zoey had quickly raided a clothes store, picking up fresh clothes for them all.

"I sure hope they have warm water," she commented as she walked alongside Molly. Molly was quiet. She shook her head at last.

"I don't like big groups." She murmured back.

"Why?"

"Because when things get really ugly, when shit _really_ hits the fan, people become dangerous."

Her words chilled Zoey to the bone, colder than the winds blowing in her face, announcing the arrival of winter, soon.

* * *

The fire had risen to the heavens, burning away at the foundations of the building.

The hunter lifted its face, its meal finished long ago, as hunger groaned in its stomach. The roasted witch lay dead, succumbed to the injuries of the fire and the hunter. The hunter crawled up to the open window as the sun faded, along with the moonlight, enveloped by the black pillar of smoke. Leaving the skeletal remains of the witch behind, it leaped out of the window and landed on the next building.

It sniffed the air twice before a third time. From the shadows, a pack of seven other hunters of different sizes crawled out, investigating what had attracted him in the first place – a scent.

Two carriers due north, along with a numerous group of uninfected.

The hunters roared hungrily into the night, catching the scent of witch blood in the young hunter's breath and instinctively recognizing him as one of the few vicious predators that hunted both infected and uninfected.

They roared again in unison and then, one by one, they pounced into the night, following the scent of the survivors.


	7. Chapter 7: A Reason to Live On

"Clementine," a voice nudged at her. "Clementine, it's time to wake up, baby."

Clementine slowly opened her eyes to greet the familiar voice. The first thing she noticed was how bright the sun was shining behind her mother's face. Its rays glowed warmly against everything it touched, sparkling fluorescently against the cool summer breeze.

"Mom?"

Clementine's mother smiled down at her, placing a hand on her cheek. "Your cheeks have always been so warm."

She passed a soft hand over Clementine's face, wiping away the tears in her eyes.

"My little girl," she whispered. "Daddy and I are so proud of you, Clementine."

Clementine swallowed against the hard lump forming in her throat. "Are… Are you real?"

Her mother stopped the motion to stare sadly into Clementine's hazel eyes. She seemed to process the question thoughtfully and tears formed at the edge of her eyes.

"No, honey," she said at last, stroking Clementine's short hair. "I'm not."

Clementine knew that she was dreaming, but for a moment, she had hoped she wasn't.

"I miss you and daddy so much," she whispered, holding her mother's hands in hers, tightly.

Her mother's breath cut into sobs as she leaned down and kissed Clementine's forehead.

"We miss you, too, Clemmy. One day, we'll all be together again, but not for now. For now, you have to be strong and carry on. Even when the skies are dark and hope is lost, don't give up. Never give up."

"I promise." Clementine nodded, feeling the empty hole in her heart tearing through her body again.

"You're going to be okay, baby," her mother promised giving her a warm smile and leaning forward to kiss her forehead again.

"I have to go now, Clementine."

"No!" Clementine pleaded, but her voice cut off and came out as a whisper. "Please don't go. Please don't leave me again!"

"Always remember that your mother loves you, and no matter what, don't give up, you hear?"

Clementine clutched at her mother's clothes, but her mother began to disappear in front of her.

"You keep going." Her mother said. "You fight. You survive."

"No, please! You don't have to go, mommy! Please don't go!"

She was almost gone now. Clementine could almost see the sky beyond her fading face.

Her mother gave her one last compassionate look.

"I love you. Always."

Then, she was gone. Her warm smile, her soft hair and skin, all of her, turned into water that splashed on Clementine's face.

Clementine fell back against the grass, exhausted, defeated. She held her wet palms against her eyes, crying miserably.

The skies above grew dark with storm clouds and they, too, cried out in agony. Rain fell softly on Clementine's face, mixing with her tears, making her feel truly alone. She hugged her knees as the cold rain mercilessly beat against her, now. She closed her eyes, remembering everyone she'd lost since the beginning of the Plague. Lee, Doug, Carly, Katjaa, Duck, her own parents…

_Why is this happening to me?_ She growled at the howling winds that were whipping her hair against her face now, tired of the loss, tired of her own weakness and inability to keep the ones she loved.  
She was tired of this world and how it kept taking everything from her and leaving her empty and alone.

She was tired of it all.

"_Why won't you just leave me alone?!" _

She fought against the roaring rain, her teeth clenched, her tiny hands balled into fists, resisting the thundering winds. And just as sudden as it had started, it ceased, and a great darkness blacker than midnight enveloped her.

The cold winds stopped abruptly and Clementine felt a huge heaviness lift from her mind. Slowly, light began to return to her and when she finally opened her eyes, the grassy field and dark storm clouds were gone, replaced by the dark hue of the blue tent.

Warm water sprinkled gently against her face and a damp towel was passed against it.

Clementine craned her neck painfully to the side to see a young woman with shoulder length, chestnut brown hair dipping the towel into a bucket of water to rinse it out. Her grayish green eyes gazed down at her in empathy and glowed with a hint of sad kindness.

The transition from dream to reality startled Clementine and she jerked up to her elbows, confused by her new surroundings.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay, honey," the girl calmed her, rubbing her shoulders soothingly. "You're okay. You're safe here."

Clementine squeezed two fingers at the tension on the bridge of her nose as the blood that had rushed to her head slowly settled down. She reached up to squeeze her head and gasped.

"My hat! Where's my hat?"

"We had to get you out of those bloodied clothes and your hat was soaked in blood, we had to throw it away-"

"WHAT?" Clementine bounced out of the cot she had been laying on. The floor felt foreign to her legs and she stumbled forward onto the grassy ground. She desperate clawed herself up and ran out of the tent.

The afternoon sun and cold September air hit her like a brick wall, knocking the air out of her. Her eyes frantically scanned through the unfamiliar plot of tents, searching for any place where they might have taken her old clothes. A musky, burnt scent caught her attention and she turned to it.

In the distance, an older man with gray-streaked black hair was shoveling through two large piles of clothes and casting them into a fire.

"NO!" Clementine took off, waving her arms and hoping she wasn't too late. She could hear the girl calling out her name from behind her, but she didn't turn back. She couldn't lose the one last thing she had to remind her of her life before the plague.

She was within a meter of the man when he tossed a shovel full of clothes into the fire. As they landed, Clementine caught a quick glimpse of her hat as it flew in the air. She ran faster, but her small legs would never reach it in time. Her hat landed at the edge of the fire and a shirt landed on top of it, blazing with flames.

"What the hell?" the man stepped back in anger and surprise as Clementine plunged her hand into the fire. She screamed at the burns but pulled her hat from under the blazing shirt, patting the smoke off of it. To her relief, the hat had not gotten burned, although she had lost feeling on her right hand.

"What in the HELL are you doing, kid?" the older man growled. "You could've set yourself on fire!"

"Clementine!" the girl from the tent caught up to them as the man became more belligerent.

"I thought we had an understanding here, Zoey! You could stay as long as you didn't get in the way."

"Hey! Relax, Angie." Zoey mocked, enjoying the way Angelo's face burned through three shades of red. "She just wants to keep the hat. No big deal."

"'No big deal'? Like hell she's gonna keep that infected hat in our camp! You know the rules! All contaminated clothes will be burned."

"Please," Clementine pleaded. "My daddy gave it to me a long time ago, and it's the only thing I have left of him. The monsters took him away from me. Please don't take this away from me, too. Please?"

Zoey shivered in emotion. Before her, she saw a mirror of herself. A broken girl who'd lost her parents to the infection.

"Of course you can keep it, honey."

"No." Angelo growled. "She's not!"

"You wanna take it from her? You'll have to get through me, first." Zoey warned, getting in front of Clementine. People around them had heard the commotion and stopped to watch the confrontation.

"So what's it gonna be, grandpa?"

Angelo's breaths quickened in anger and he stiffened up. He took a step forward, his grip tightening on the shovel and for a second, Zoey thought he was going to attack her.

"You little bitch!" he roared.

"That's enough!"

Amy Bennett stomped towards them. The sun gleamed off of her dogtags resting against her white tanktop.

"Angelo, for your own good, I'm only going to say this once. You leave these girls alone." She stepped in front of him, her furious blue-green eyes glaring threateningly into Angelo's, a gaze so intense that he was forced to step back. "If you don't, you can start finding yourself another group."

Angelo's gaze fell. "Fine, Amy. Whatever you say. But when she gets our group infected, I won't hesitate to put a bullet in between her eyes."

"Naturally. Until then, leave them alone."

Unwilling to acknowledge her leadership, Angelo turned in disgust, picked up the shovel and continued tossing the clothes into the fire.

"We didn't mean to cause any trouble," Zoey apologized as Amy walked them back to the tent she'd given them. "The hat means a lot to her."

"No need to apologize, Zoey." Amy smiled at her. "We all have something that keeps us moving forward. I will need you to clean it before you can wear it out here, though. As much as I find your little girl adorable, I have a group to protect and if I let a contaminated object like that out here…"

"I understand," Zoey nodded. "I'll clean it."

Amy nodded back then turned to face Clementine.

"My you are a cutie. What's your name?"

Clementine looked away timidly her face flushing at the compliment.

"Clem-Clementine."

"You have your momma's courage, Clementine," Amy praised and Clementine glanced up questioningly at Zoey.

"Uhh I'm not her mom, I-"

"Oh my god!" Amy exclaimed and kneeled down, taking Clementine's burned hand.

"It doesn't hurt," Clementine assured.

"Well, aren't you a tough little lady? Still, you should bandage this up," she told Zoey, who nodded. "You wouldn't want your sister coming back from the hunt and finding out her niece is hurt."

"Uhh, right. I'll get right to it, then." Zoey nodded and took Clementine into the tent, zipping the large entrance up. Clementine was silent staring down at the hat and her hand. Zoey sighed, wondering what horrors this little girl had seen in the past five or so months since the infection hit.

"Let's take a look at that hand."

Clementine looked at the burned flesh on her fingers.

"Yes, please."

Zoey picked her up and placed her on the table on the side of the tent. Reaching back under the covers of her sleepingbag, she pulled out the first aid kit she always kept.

"It doesn't look so bad. Let me patch you up. This'll only take a second."

She applied some cream on the burn that made Clementine wince and gently bandaged her hand.

"There ya go. Should be good as new in no time!"

Clementine nodded.

"Thanks," she muttered, shyly. "Thanks for standing up for me. This hat means a lot to me."

"Clementine," Zoey took her other hand. "I know exactly how you feel because I went through it myself. I lost my mom and dad and the man who protected me the first few weeks that this infection started."

Clementine's gaze fell to her feet. "Yeah," she said hoarsely.

"You're not alone anymore, Clem. I may not know you very well, but I'll look out for you from here on out."

Clementine nodded and smiled at her. "You remind me of a good friend."

Zoey ruffled her hair.

"I'd like that. A friend would be nice to have."

"Yeah."

Clementine's stomach roared and she pressed against it with her newly bandaged hand.

"I'm hungry!" she giggled.

"I'll go see about that," Zoey got up and walked over to a corner of the tent.

"In the meantime," she pulled out the backpack she had taken from the saferoom in Savannah. "You can stay here and color."

"My backpack!" Clementine squealed with delight. "I thought I'd never see it again! Thank you!"

As Clementine eagerly dug through her backpack for crayons and paper, Zoey stepped outside of the big tent, with the widest smile she had had since the beginning of the infection. She had found a reason to continue fighting and moving forward and surviving, and the reason was Clementine. She needed someone in her life to care for her, to raise her and to give her a family, and in her mind, Zoey resolved to be that woman.

She began walking towards Amy Bennett's tent, weaving past the ones camped out in the way. Her mind was reeling with questions. Why had Amy referred to Clementine as her daughter? And who was the sister she supposedly had? Had Molly made all of it up, or was there someone else in the camp who had told Amy?

She passed by a small garden patch where Melanie and Cole were picking vegetables and putting them in a basket. They smiled and waved at her as she walked by and for the first time in a very long time, Zoey felt at home.

One of the girls who was working next to Melanie squealed.

"Alex!" She ran from the gardens and through herself onto the boy as he entered the camp. He caught her in his arms and kissed her fondly. The two boys he had taken with him to the hunt were pulling along three deer with them. A third boy carried several fish in a net. The boys took them to a dressing tent at the far side of the small camp while Alex and his girlfriend went into their own tent.

Zoey looked around for Molly, who had also gone along with the group to hunt. She walked up to Amy's military style camouflaged tent and walked in. To her surprise, Amy was leaning over a desk and staring at Molly in the eyes. She turned and Zoey caught a glimpse of a wild look in her eyes that immediately vanished.

"Ah, Zoey," she laughed. "Your sister and I were just talking about you."

"Is this about earlier?"

"Earlier?" Molly asked.

"No, no, no. It's not that," Amy assured. "I just needed to clarify some things."

"Sure, what's up?" Zoey feigned enthusiasm through her tightened throat. Her lips were dry with anticipation. Something about Amy's curiosity felt misplaced… odd.

"According to Molly here, you two are sisters, correct."

Zoey caught a quick flicker in Molly's eyes. It was small and unnoticeable to Amy, who was facing Zoey in the opposite side of the room, but to Zoey it screamed a warning.

"Step-sisters," she nodded.

"I have a hard time believing that." Amy said. "I don't believe you're related at all."

Zoey and Molly let out painfully false laughs. Molly reached for her back pocket and took out a picture. "See," she said. "That's Zoey when she was a teen."

Amy studied the picture for a long time.

"You've certainly lost a lot of weight."

"Well unless you haven't noticed, _Bennett_," Molly said through her teeth. "The world went to hell. Not all of us had a warm, hearty meal to eat every night!"

"Oh, no! I'm sorry! I meant that as a compliment, really!" Amy shrunk back. "I didn't mean to offend. I just want to make sure we know exactly who we admit into our group. You have no idea how many people have tried to infiltrate the camp just to steal our supplies."

"And that's why you call yourselves the Resistance?" Zoey asked.

"Well, yes, partially. We're a resistance not only against bandits, but against the government. My dad was a high ranking general, but he was bitten in the first few days. Our family was executed. I managed to escape and fight back."

"I remember." Molly nodded. "That's around the time Crawford rose to power and after a while, the power just got to their heads. I just hope the same doesn't happen to this camp."

"Over my dead body," Amy swore.

An uneasy silence followed and after five uncomfortable seconds, Zoey decided to change the subject.

"It's a good thing we're camping so close to water," she commented. "It should make it easier for us to fish, at the very least. If it's alright, I'd like to start helping out with scavenge runs. I'm fast on my feet and I'm a good shot. I want to help."

"I like you, Zoey. You're more than a good shot. You've got spirit, and that's what this group needs! We could always use more help, sure. The more people we have hunting out there, the more food we can bring in for the camp."

"Speaking of food, I'm hungry!" Molly said loudly. "When do we eat?"

"They should be preparing the meal right now. You can both go out there and see if you can help out." Amy forced a smile at Molly as she and Zoey turned to walk out.

"And Molly," Amy called. "Great job out there tonight."

Molly nodded and walked out of the tent.

"What was that all about?" Zoey murmured as they walked clear of the tent.

"I don't trust her," Molly said. "I've been around these so called resistance movements. They always end up doing more bad than good."

"You don't trust anybody!" Zoey poked at her.

"True, but this one's different. I don't know, Zoey. Maybe I'm just paranoid."

"Well, in your defense, overkill never killed anybody. I'll keep an eye open when I sleep."

"Thanks."

They walked over to where the women were preparing the meal, completely unaware that Amy was watching them the entire time.


	8. Chapter 8: Cabin in the Woods

_**AN: We've officially blasted past 1.2k views! Thank you, everybody! You guys are amazing! :))**_

Zoey's heart beat against her ears.

It wasn't that she was scared, she told herself. She was excited, anxious to get this scavenge run over with so they could get back to the camp.

She clung on to her hunting rifle and nodded at Molly. She could only see her eyes above the facemask, and her hood covered the rest of her head, as she nodded in response and stepped forward through the trees.

Her feet were as nimble as a cat's, her eyes glancing from the ground to her surroundings.

A true hunter.

Zoey turned to motion at Alex and the two boys he always brought along on runs. He nodded in response and Zoey followed Molly.

A walker, as these people called the slow ones, had found its way into the camp three nights ago, while everybody feasted, and managed to get tangled in one of the tents. It didn't bite anyone, but it spooked the group enough that Amy had agreed to let the Scavengers, as she called them, to spread out and clear their surroundings of any infected.

So far, they had killed five. Zoey was amazed that none of them had made it into the camp, and that thought had created an uneasiness that constantly tugged at her mind throughout the two days they had been out here, clearing.

A million terrible things that could happen to the camp while they were gone ran through her head, and it was that distraction that caused her to move her foot without completely lifting it. Dead leaves crunched loudly under her feet and the group froze.

Molly closed her eyes in relief and turned back around to lead the way. Zoey didn't have to turn around to know that Alex was glaring at her. She had always had the ability to know when they were being watched, and that skill had allowed her to save Bill, Francis and Louis from the special infected on numerous occasions.

She forbade her mind to go back to them, especially at a time like this.

_Focus, girl._

Molly suddenly lifted her hand in the air, and the group halted, abruptly.

A small child in torn clothing walked up ahead, her feet shuffling slowly against the dead leaves on the ground. Her soft cries were more like gargles, and she clung on to a torn, bloody teddy bear.

Zoey sighed at the sight. Even after six months of being around the walkers, she still wasn't used to seeing the children in this state. The children infected by the Green Flu became Special Infected and mutated on a daily basis. Even the younger children would turn into Jockeys or Hunters and mutate into adulthood within days or even hours of succumbing to the infection.

But walkers were different.

The little girl stopped her advance and turned around. Maybe she could feel when others were watching her, too, Zoey thought.

The girl, even in death, even with the pale, sickly, grotesque appearance she had, was gorgeous. She had long curly black hair, a slim body, and creases around her eyes that looked like a smile. There was a large chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and Zoey guessed that that was where she had been bitten.

She looked just like Clementine. Zoey shivered at the thought of what could have happened to Clementine if they hadn't found her.

Molly sighed next to her. "I'll take her," she said, her voice muffled by her face mask.

The girl barked at Molly as she approached and raised her hands up at her, surging forward. Molly reached around for her ice axe and swung it down, driving it into the girl's head. The girl fell to the ground, her cries finally silent.

Alex moved in from behind Zoey. He kept his guns aimed at the body and his eyes searched wildly through the trees.

"That's six already," he said, his accent thick. "Maybe there's a village around here, a refuge."

"Maybe she came from the city?" One of the boys suggested.

Alex shook his head.

"The city is one hour and a half walk away from here. Imagine how long it would take a walker to shuffle its way here."

"So, if you're right, what's the plan?"

Alex's eyes flickered across the leaves. "Come," he said, taking lead of the group.

They followed the child's trail for half an hour before getting to a clearing. The dead leaves had been swept away into massive piles and the trees had been cut down into logs.

There were three wooden cabins at the center of the clearing.

Everything around this place was dead.

Everything.

There were no birds singing in the background or insects chirping their harsh, raspy soliloquys. There was complete, dead silence, and it seared into Zoey's brain. She closed her eyes and forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.

"You two take the one on the left," Alex instructed. "Me and my boys will take the one on the right. We meet at the one in the center."

Molly and Zoey nodded.

"And girls," he called quietly as they stepped away. "No heroics. We're in and out in ten."

"Got it, got it," Molly waved him off.

The rustle of the dry bushes as Zoey stepped through them cracked as loud as thunder. She kept a constant watch over their backs as they advanced over the decaying, wooden steps.

Molly peered through the glass, but saw nothing. She placed her hand on the doorknob and Zoey positioned herself on the opposite side, pistols drawn, ready to fire. Molly swung the door open, but the cabin was empty. They entered, never lowering their weapons.

"Okay, we're good," Molly acknowledged, her voice sounding loud against Zoey's ears. "Let's sack this place and get out."

Zoey looked around. The cabin was small and humble. Sheets and blankets littered the ground, forming a makeshift bed, she presumed. She stepped over them and felt something crack under her shoe. She bent down, moving the sheets and found a framed picture, its glass now cracked.

The picture was a family of three and their dog. The little girl between her parents looked exactly like the walker girl from the woods.

"You wanna know what I think?" Molly said as she stuffed her bag with canned food she'd found in a cabinet. "We should take some of this lumber and build some walls around the camp. The horde is gonna run out of food in the city, and eventually they're gonna find their way to the camp."

"Do you think Amy will move the camp after all?" Zoey put the photo down and stuffed a coloring book and two packs of crayons she'd found.

_Clementine would love these._

"I really don't care what she has in mind." Molly moved to a different cabinet and started looting its medical supplies. "When she decides to move the camp, I'm not going."

"You're not?"

"Zoey, trust me. She's trouble. I can just _feel_ it!"

"Because of Crawford?"

"No! Okay, maybe so. You just can't trust anybody these days, especially someone who is so interested in knowing _everything_ about you. That's why I lied about who we are."

"Don't you think that will just lead to trouble if she finds out who we are?"

Molly nodded. "That's when we leave."

"I guess we'll see what happens." Zoey picked up two blankets, rolled them up and tied them against her pack.

"That's everything."

"Same here," Molly said. "Time to meet up with Alex."

Zoey got up to follow Molly when she felt a sharp coldness ripping against her side. It took her a second to recognize the feeling. She grabbed Molly and flung her to the floor.

"Get down!"

A hailstorm of bullets blasted through the windows, ripping into the side of the cabin.

"Jesus!"

The bullets ceased long enough to hear a man shouting from outside.

"Goddamn bandits! I'll teach you to steal from us!"

A second wave of bullets tore through the house. Molly and Zoey dove onto their bellies to avoid getting hit.

"Come on!" Zoey crawled towards the door.

The gun fire was suddenly quieted, overpowered by the deafening roar of Alex's automatic weapons. Zoey poked her head around the corner of the door and saw their attacker, a man in his late 40s on the ground, clutching at a reddening hole on his stomach. Alex swung the door from the cabin he'd been looting and fired several shots at an unseen enemy in the forest. Zoey heard a motor rev and fade into distance.

"Clear!" Alex yelled as he came up to the fallen attacker.

Zoey and Molly ran out of the cabin to where Alex was standing.

"I thought I said ten minutes," he told them scornfully.

"You bastards," the man spat out, coughing blood. "You kill my little girl, now you loot what's left. You're vultures, all of ya!"

Zoey exchanged a glance with Molly.

"We're just people trying to survive," Zoey told him. "You didn't have to shoot at us."

The man looked at her and laughed scornfully.

"You think you're safe? You think they care about you? The only thing they care about is themselves."

"That's enough," Alex said, reaching into the man's pockets and grabbing a set of keys. He motioned at the truck in the clearing. "Time to go."

"You think they care about you?" the man was still laughing. "You're nothing but a test subject to them, slimy, stinkin' Crawford filth! I know what you do to the ones you don't need!" he pointed a bloody, accusing finger at Alex. "Go on, tell em what you do-"

The loud bang caused Zoey to jump and her ears to ring.

Alex turned to face the boy who held the smoking pistol.

"What was that for?" He roared in anger, and the boy shrunk back, visibly shaken.

"I-I-"

"Heads up!" Called the third boy from the middle cabin.

The loud roar of infected vibrated through the woods. The gunfire had attracted a small horde. Dozens of walkers stumbled into the clearing, their hands outstretched, their eyes gleaming with hunger.

"Get to the truck!" Alex yelled, bringing his weapons up and opening fire on the horde.

"Jesse, get outta there!"

But the third boy was pinned down at the middle cabin.

Alex blasted away at the walkers, but he would never reach Jesse in time.

As he reloaded, a Walker surprised Jesse from his side and bit into his arm. The boy screamed and fell into the cabin, backing up. Five more walkers followed him inside and his horrified screams turned to gut-wrenched cries.

Alex cursed and took off, running towards the truck where Molly, Zoey and the other boy were holding off.

"Get in!" he roared. They all jumped into the truck as it roared to life. Alex didn't wait for them to be ready. He stepped on the gas and drove over the walkers in his way.

Zoey looked back at the cabin as it faded into the distance, a sight she had been all too familiar with. Not a word was said throughout the entire drive back to the camp.

* * *

They arrived at the camp sometime around noon.

Zoey got out of the truck and stretched. Alex got down and slammed the door, furious. He cursed his way back to his tent and his girlfriend chased after him.

"I'll… I'll make a funeral for him," the surviving boy said, sadly. "We owe him at least that."

Zoey leaned against the truck, sadly. Things had escalated out of control way too quickly and it made her think of how quickly it could happen here. She felt a scraping against the truck and she turned.

Molly dragged a long piece of lumber from the pile on the back of the truck and began taking it away.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" she laughed. "I'm not gonna wait for those geeks or the bandits to catch up. I'm building a fence! Here," she handed Zoey a drawing of what the fence would look like that she drew up along the way home.

"Take these to Amy and let her know what we're gonna do."

Zoey nodded. She turned and walked back to camp as Molly stayed behind, working on the wall. There was something she needed to do first.

Halfway back into the camp, she saw Clementine playing with Cole and another little girl. Clementine saw her and her face brightened up. She got up from where she was sitting and ran towards Zoey.

"You're back!" Clementine hugged her. "I missed you!"

"I missed you to, kiddo! I brought you something." Zoey reached around her pack.

"Oh, wow!" Clementine's eyes were wide with surprise. "A coloring book! Thank you!"

She hugged Zoey again.

"You're welcome, Clementine. I have another surprise for you, but it'll have to wait till later, okay? Go on into the tent and color me something."

Clementine nodded obediently and ran back to the tent to color. Zoey couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. As much as she wanted to spend more time with Clementine, she knew they needed to start working on the wall. She turned her attention to the gardens where Melanie was usually working.

"Hey, Zoey!" Melanie greeted her when she saw her. She hugged her and noticed how big her tummy was getting.

"I'm so glad you're okay! Cole and I always get nervous when you guys go out on runs. How did it go?"

"We, uh… We lost a guy," Zoey said, feeling the weight behind her words. She had forgotten what it was like to lose someone to those monsters. "Molly and I want to build a fence to protect this place."

"That's a good idea. You'll probably have to talk to Amy, though. You know how she is about this place."

Zoey knew all too well how Amy would react to anything that seemed remotely like settling down. Ever since they'd been rescued from Savannah, Amy had done nothing but talk about how the group needed to keep moving. But Amy wasn't the supreme leader of the group, she was just in charge of security.

"Where is she?" Zoey asked. Melanie's eyebrows cocked in confusion.

"I thought she left with you guys."

"Nope."

"Well she's been gone for days, so I assumed she was with you."

"What?"

Zoey turned to Amy's military tent. Had the camp been without anyone to handle security while they were out clearing? Zoey marched down to the tent and swung the flap open. She groaned at the sight.

There, sitting back with his feet propped up on the table, was Angelo.

"Oh, great," he mumbled. "What is it this time?"

"Where is she?" Zoey demanded, not in the mood for Angelo's obnoxiousness.

"Amy is out on a run, and she's not gonna be here for a while. I'm in charge of keeping this place safe until she returns."

"Where'd she go?"

"None of your business."

"When will she be back?"

"When you see her sitting in this chair."

Zoey sighed. There was no point in arguing with Angelo. She knew she'd never get anywhere, so she decided to be straightforward.

"Molly and I feel like this place is a little… vulnerable."

Angelo laughed.

"That's not exactly news, sweetheart."

"Still, we want to build a fence to keep the walkers out. We ran into a horde of them while on our run, and if they ever find their way to this camp, we want to have at least a fighting chance."

Angelo's face tightened a bit and his voice dropped to a serious tone.

"You actually saw a horde out there?"

Zoey nodded. "And bandits, too."

"Goddammit." Angelo passed a hand over his face. "I've told her a thousand times over that this camp needs more protection. She never makes an effort to gather the supplies we'd need to build something like a fence."

"We have a plan," Zoey said, handing him the sketches Molly had given her.

He stared at the drawings Molly had made. "Crude," he said. "But where exactly would we find the supplies to do this?"

"We brought some on our new truck," Zoey smirked, amazed at how eagerly Angelo stared at the drawings.

"We'll build a lookout point here," she said, pointing at the map. "If anything, we'll at least have a heads up of what's to come."

For the first time since she'd known him, Zoey actually saw Angelo smile.

"Alright, Zoey, I'll trust you this time, not because I like you, but because I like Amy a whole lot less."

"You're so sweet," Zoey laughed. She left the tent and jogged back to the edge of the camp, where molly had set up three boards in the fence.

"We're good to go," she told Molly.

"I'm surprised she actually said yes," she responded.

"Oh, Amy's not here. It was Angelo. Can you believe it?"

Molly glanced up from her work, passing a hand through her eyebrows.

"Amy's not in the camp?"

"No, Angelo said she had gone off on a run."

Zoey picked up a board and began putting it in place. Through the corner of her eye, she saw and felt Molly's stare. The wild look in her eye chilled her to the bone. She forced herself to concentrate on what she was doing, but for some reason, she kept seeing the walker girl's face in her mind.

"This is getting really weird," Molly commented as if reading her mind. "First the man back there calls them Crawford filth, and now Amy mysteriously vanishes without a trace…"

"What are you thinking?" Zoey asked.

"I'm thinking there's more to these people than they're letting on. If I'm right, we'll have to take drastic measures to protect ourselves."

Zoey shivered at the thought of what "drastic measures" Molly had in mind.


	9. Chapter 9: Fall Out

_**AN: I COME BACK FROM MY VACATION AND FIND OUT THAT WE'VE BLASTED PAST 2.1K VIEWS! THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT AND THE REVIEWS! I WILL STRIVE TO BE MORE REGULAR ON THIS STORY. GET READY FOR WHAT'S TO COME. IT'S TO DIE FOR! HAHA ;)**_

* * *

_**4 WEEKS LATER…**_

He stared at her in silence through the scope of his military sniper rifle. The custom rubber grip felt warm under his sweaty hands as he studied the little girl. She bit her lip, concentrating on a kitten she was drawing. His finger twitched beside the trigger, but he resisted the itch. The boss had been very clear; he wanted the kid alive.

A drop of sweat rolled down from his scalp and burned his vision. The man moved to wipe his right eye before bringing the scope back up. The little girl was gone. Eyes furrowed, he swept the area quickly before finding her again. She was running up to a young woman in a red sweatshirt.

_Very interesting._

The two hugged and the lady pulled out a stuffed rabbit from her backpack, which the little girl hugged lovingly. The two parted as the lady walked away and the little girl made her way back to her drawings on the sheet that had been spread out on the grass, stuffed rabbit in her arms.

The sun was beginning to lower in the distance, showering the world in orange and yellows. The man craned his neck from left to right, enjoying the relaxing pop. He glanced through the scope one final time and began to lower it when the little girl suddenly looked up. Intrigued, the man brought the scope back to focus. A different woman, clad in orange and gray winter clothes came into view, carrying a pair of scissors and a towel.

He lowered his rifle and thumbed a button on a device on his ear.

"I found her," he told the person at the other end. "Tell the boss I found the little girl. She's with a small group of about a dozen or so. She's with the carrier."

There was static coming from the other end for a brief moment before the woman at the other end responded.

"Good," she said. "We'll wait till tomorrow. Then you take the girl and the carrier. Kill the rest."

"With pleasure."

Lowering the rifle, he shifted a bit in his makeshift bed of leaves and dirt, closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"What are you thinking?" Molly asked her as she gently pulled on Clementine's hair and cut. Clementine had been silent throughout the entire haircut and Molly was all too familiar with a silence like her's.

"Nothing," she quickly responded. Her grip on the rabbit tightened. Molly let out a subtle sigh and continued cutting in silence.

"You know," Molly said after a while. "I never got to thank you."  
"For what?"  
"That day, back at Crawford, when Lee couldn't get a clear shot at the Geek that had grabbed me, you were the one who got him. You saved me back there."  
"I was really scared," she admitted. "I hate that."  
"Geeks can be scary things," Molly told her, tilting Clementine's head to the side.  
"But it's not just that," Clementine insisted. "It's everything. Sometimes I freeze up when I need to act quickly. I just wish I wasn't scared of everything. I wish I was brave – like you and Zoey."

Molly moved over to work on her bangs and smiled. "Believe me, Clem, you are brave. You're the bravest little girl I've ever known."  
"Molly?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I want to learn how to fight."

This took Molly by surprise and she almost over clipped a lock of Clementine's hair.  
"Like you," Clementine said. "Lee taught me how to use a gun and that made it a lot less scary. Maybe if you taught me how to use Hilda, I won't be afraid of walkers anymore."

Molly clipped the last of Clementine's extra hair.  
"Cute," she said, lifting a small hand mirror so that Clementine could see her new hairdo. "What do you think?"

Clementine smiled and nodded her approval, but continued gazing at her questioningly. Molly sighed.

"Alright, Clem. I'll teach you all I know, but you've got to promise me one thing."  
"Anything!"

Molly looked away at the ice axe safely tucked in her backpack.  
"Killing changes you. Even if they are just zombies, after a while, you get used to it. Sometimes, it's easy to get carried away and think that it's the easy way out of a problem. I want you to promise me that no matter what happens, you'll never use it to harm the living."

Clementine gulped down the lump in her throat. She had already killed a living person. _Twice!_

"I promise," she whispered. Molly smiled at her.

"Rule number one," she said, pulling the hood on clementine's hoody over her head. "Always keep the hood up, especially at night. It gives you cover and conceals your identity from bandits. Always maintain a level of surprise, and you have the upper hand."

"Right." Clementine nodded.

Light gleamed from her left and Molly glanced to the side, scanning the wooded area beyond the wall.

"What is it?" Clementine asked.  
"It's… nothing," Molly assured. "I thought I saw something."  
"Walkers?"  
"No… not quite…"

Zoey walked out from around the corner, following Angelo. She shot Molly a concerned look and snapped her head to the side, beckoning her to follow them.

"Listen, sweet pea," she said, unwrapping the blanket from around Clementine's neck as she shook her short hair and swung her hood on. "I gotta go for now, but tomorrow we can start training together, okay?"

Clementine's smile broadened and she nodded.

Molly patted her shoulder twice and took off to catch up to Zoey and Angelo. They were waiting just outside a supply tent they had erected after a successful series of scavenge runs. Alex and Jared, the last of the Scavenger group were also arriving.

"So," Angelo began, pulling the cigar from his mouth. "Someone's been breaking into the stash."

Molly and Zoey exchanged glances.

"Small things, at first," he continued. "Bandages, alcohol pads… but now we're missing some of the bigger stuff. Pills, food, weapons. I have never been a man that pulls back punches, so I'm going to lay it out like it is."

He pointed a ringed finger at Molly's face.

"You're out of the Scavengers."

"What?!" Molly and Zoey exclaimed at the same time. Angelo shook his head.

"You've been talking about leaving the group for some time now."  
"So?"  
"So, what? You been stocking up for when you leave?"

"Oh come on, man," Alex interrupted. "Molly's one of us. She's been straight with us from the start."  
"You have no proof that she's done anything!" Zoey snapped at Angelo.  
"She's the one who wants to leave! Who else would have done it?"  
"All I've ever done is tried to earn your confidence," Molly shook her head. "Why the hell would I put our group in jeopardy like that?"  
"You go off on scavenge runs alone almost every day! What's to say you don't take a little of the loot and stash it somewhere else for yourself?"

Molly glared at him with unbelieving eyes.  
"Fine," she said. "You want me gone, I'll go."  
"Oh, come on! You're being overdramatic! I'm not kicking you out of the group! We're just gonna try and keep a closer eye on you."

Without another word, Molly turned and stomped off. Zoey shook her head at Angelo and walked out of the tent, following Molly. Angelo turned to see Alex glaring at him.

"What? You pissed off at me, too?"

Alex shook his head slowly, peeling his gaze away.  
"Whatever, man," he muttered, leaving the tent.

Angelo was left alone in the darkening tent. Heaving a heavy sigh, he stuffed his cigar back into his mouth.

"Well, shit."

* * *

"Molly," Zoey called after her. "Molly, wait."  
She followed Molly into her tent. Molly picked up her backpack and stuffed what little belongings she had. Zoey watched her from the mouth of the tent.

"Molly, don't let him get to you," she begged. "We need you here."

Molly angrily brushed a tear rolling down her cheek and shook her head.

"Pack your things," she told her. "We're leaving."  
"Molly, you're not thinking this straight. We have nowhere else to go. Sure, the guy's an asshole, but at least we're safe."  
"You're defending this place?"  
"We go on runs every three days together. You know how bad it is out there."  
Molly was shoving things into her backpack, got to a picture of her sister and stared at it. After a moment, she stuffed that into her backpack, too.  
"Just wait until winter passes, we can work something out and then if you still want to leave, we'll trace out a plan and go," Zoey was saying.

Molly stood up, but didn't turn around to face Zoey.

"If you don't want to come with me, tell Clementine to pack her things."  
"What?!" Zoey whispered. "No, Molly. You can't seriously think of taking her back out there."  
"I can keep her safe. I've kept your skinny ass safe so far, haven't I?"  
"Molly, that's different. Clementine is a nine-year-old girl. She needs love and attention."  
"She'll die a little girl unless someone teaches her to survive. _Survive_, not hide behind a wooden fence and expect for the rest of the world to leave you alone."

Zoey flinched. The remark hit home but Molly didn't care.  
"Angelo was right, you know," Molly said.

Zoey stared at her suspiciously.  
"What do you mean?"  
"I'm the one who was taking the stuff and yes, I've been stashing it away for this moment. The moment we leave this group and survive on our own."  
"Molly! You've been putting us in danger this whole time?"

Molly shrugged.  
"I'm not the only one who's been dishonest. Were you ever planning on telling us about the special infected, or were you going to wait till one of those hunters ripped me to shreds?"  
"Molly-"  
"Or how about the fact that you're infected?"

Zoey stopped.  
"What are you talking about?"  
"I saw the bite marks," Molly told her. "I was there when Maria dressed your wounds so you know exactly what I mean. How are you still alive?"  
"All that stuff is… complicated," Zoey said. "Maybe I should have been more open with you. I messed up. But, Molly, you can't just leave and go off alone. There's strength in numbers."  
"Is that why you left your group back in Savannah?"

Zoey gasped. She had not expected that. Her hands balled up into fists.  
"Molly," Zoey warned, her lips trembling with anger. "Don't go there."  
"Why did you leave them?" Molly insisted. There was a poison in her voice that she had never directed at Zoey. They stared at each other, the tension heavy in the air before Zoey finally responded.  
"We were left for dead," she growled through clenched teeth. "And even though the world abandoned us, there was one man that united the four of us. Bill gave us hope of finding someplace safe someday, and after he died, I wanted to run away from everything that reminded me of him."

Zoey looked down at her feet, feeling dizzy.

"He believed that together, we could make it to the Keys and escape this horrible nightmare…"

Molly's gaze shifted towards the entrance and Zoey turned to see Clementine standing there, holding the rabbit and her coloring book.

"Sweetie, pack your stuff," Molly told her, raising her backpack over her shoulders. "We're getting out of here."  
"Where are we going?" Clementine cocked her head to the side.  
"Nowhere," Zoey said, putting an arm in front of her.  
"Huh?"  
Molly glared at Zoey.  
"I said we're leaving."  
"And I said you're not taking her out there."  
Molly stood up from her crouched position and walked over to Zoey until she was barely inches away.  
"I'm not letting her stay here," she said.  
Clementine took a step back, dropping the rabbit, suddenly aware of the situation.  
"You'd rather take her out there to live by the day? Why? Why risk it when you have a secure home and a food every day here?"  
"Because I can take care of her, Zoey. Because someday, something will happen to you and you'll leave her, just like Bill left you."

Zoey's fist cracked against Molly's lower lip, sending her tumbling back against a chair. The flimsy plastic chair snapped and Molly fell to the ground.

Clementine yelped and ran out of the tent as Molly clawed to her knees. Fresh blood ran in a single stream down her lips. She licked the blood and rose to her feet, her eyes wild with anger. Zoey didn't expect her to be so quick. Molly surged forward, grabbing ahold of Zoey's tiny figure and raising her into the air. She ran forward and flung her against the ground in a tackle.

The impact blew the air from Zoey's lungs and she struggled to breathe as Molly athletically jumped on top of her, locking both her thighs against Zoey's sides. The first swing hurt the most. Something in her face cracked as Molly brought her fist down. Zoey tried to bring her legs up defensively, but Molly shifted her legs, preventing her to do so.

Her punches rained on Zoey, staining them both with her blood. Zoey tried to grab ahold of Molly's hair, but Molly had always kept it short. Zoey hadn't. Molly twisted her hand around a lock of her hair and slammed her fist against her left cheek. The mud below them flew into Zoey's eyes, blinding her as Molly continued to pound her face. A crowd had formed around them and Zoey began to lose consciousness.

"Molly, stop!" Melanie begged as she ran towards them, trying to separate the two women. Molly didn't see or hear her. She swung back for another punch and her elbow slammed against Melanie's swollen belly. Melanie screamed in pain, clutching at her belly. The scream extinguished the fiery rage in Molly's eyes, replacing them with a veil of worry and shock as Melanie fell to the ground, rolling in pain.

Abruptly, the punches stopped. Zoey's head rolled but she managed to open her eyes long enough to see Melanie on the ground. She glanced up at Molly and could see the hurt behind her eyes. She coughed as Molly released her throat and got off of her. Ana and Alex's girlfriend ran to help Melanie as Angelo stood in the middle of the group, his arms folded on his chest. The moonlight gleamed off the scars in his scowl.

"Get the fuck outta here," he barked at Molly.

Molly blinked back her tears and sniffed back blood, readjusted her backpack on her shoulders and pierced through the group, running for the fence. She leaped, using her foot to kick off the fence and propel herself further up. Grabbing ahold, she swung herself up and over the fence and ran, disappearing in the night.

Clementine kneeled beside Zoey and hugged her, sobbing.

She tried to hug her back, but her world started spinning. Her head slumped back against the mud and she passed out.


End file.
